Because the fish and toads live here. Because you can run through the lawn sprinkler at home. Because we must hurry home now. Because I said so. Because the mayor will see you from his window up there. Because Daddy will be home soon. Because I’ll s***k you if you don’t come right now. Most of the parking spaces along four sides of the center square are now open. Mothers and children are gone. A car door’s slam breaks the welcoming hush from absent traffic and people. Merlina looks toward the street. Sheila Lou’s eldest son, Theo, approaches her. He is alone and walks directly toward her. “It’s lucky I found you before you boarded the bus again. Hi, Merlina Rea.” Theo is in business attire, having abandoned only jacket. But his wrinkled trousers hint at long hours in the car. He nears Merl
