Her face glowed; there was a burning sensation in her eyes. She felt as if she were slowly rising from warm, viscous depths. She gasped. Then she just...lay still, feeling sad. Why would she feel sad?Memories returned, and with them despair, the same burning despair that made her break down in Winter Garden. Despair of what — shame? Maybe, but surely not the familiar shame of exposing her secret darkness to the world; not the shallow fear of being finally exposed as the total slut she knew she. Right up to last summer, Polly had a helper called Manuel who kept the jeep in running order and set her daily loads for easy delivery on her RFD. (Rural Free Delivery) Each year it seemed like things just getting tighter and tighter and she had to let Manual go a couple of months before the cold weather set in. She did find him a job at the Joshua-Tree garage and he ran the AAA tow service almost all the way to the Nevada State line.At last count, there were slightly less than a thousand souls. More

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