CHAPTER FIVE
Sylvie and I have been shopping at the grocery store. We’re thinking grapes and berries and strawberry pie…fresh salmon, fresh baked rolls and a bottle of champagne – which has mysteriously landed in the grocery cart. Seems as if we’re planning for a celebration by the looks of things. Sylvie carries one bag; I carry the other, and push through the door, only to stop abruptly. The man entering halts as quickly as I do – otherwise, we’d have smacked each other in the face. For just a moment, we stare, figuring, remembering, appraising – the communication silent and telling. His glance goes briefly to Sylvie but then returns to me, although it is hard to tell what he may be thinking with his dark sunglasses blocking a good look at his eyes.
Hurst.
I don’t know if it’s all the
