11 NoraNora sucked in tobacco smoke like an oxygen-deprived skin diver desperate to breathe again. After their meeting with Quinn, she and Channing had adjourned to the small patio at the back of the Center building.
Nora felt her frayed nerve endings start to reknit.
After a winter huddling in gloom under the eaves and using the trashcan for an ashtray, it was great to smoke in the sunshine again, especially since garden decor had been restored to the patio. She relished the spring sunlight, her backside planted on a warm wood bench, rays bathing her face.
To her left, butts sprouted from a sand-filled clay pot. On her right, a matching pot held blooming primroses, the purple and yellow blossoms too feebly scented to offset the exhalations of two serious nicotine addicts
“Speaking of
