Chapter 1
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Walking Hank seems to be the only peace I have anymore, and so our morning walks have gotten progressively longer every
day since Sara’s abrupt departure. Hank enjoys it, and I have to admit that the exercise is good for me as well, lest we both get
fat.

When we rounded the corner of our street, I noticed that the mail truck was parked at the other end of the block. Glancing
down at my watch, I realized that the time had gotten away from me again, and it was almost noon. Our little trip had taken
nearly three hours this time.

By the time we reached the sidewalk in front of the house, the mailman was meeting us there. The man instantly bent down
and began to scratch at Hanks ears. It quickly became evident that these two were not strangers by the enthusiastic wag of
Hank’s tail as it thumped into my leg.

“Hey there, little fella…long time no see.” I watched as the man reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a dog biscuit to
feed to my eager companion. “Yeah, I bet you missed those.” He gave Hank a good pat to the side as the dog began to
devour the biscuit, and then he stood to greet me.

“I’m guessin’ that you must be the Dr. G. Grissom I’ve been hearing about all this time…” The postman held out his hand,
“Pleased to finally meet you. I’m Henry.”

Somewhat taken aback by the man’s forwardness, I hesitated a moment and then extended my hand in a polite gesture.
“Thank you. Nice to meet you as well.”

Henry gestured down at the big dark eyes staring up at us and said, “I was beginning to wonder where my buddy Hank had run
off to, but I guess the missus is doing some traveling.” He handed me a stack of bills with a postcard sitting conspicuously on
top. “Glad to see she’s gettin’ out again.” As he walked on to his next delivery, he hollered over his shoulder. “Give her my
best, and you two have a great day!”

Absently, I waved the man off, but my line of sight was fixed on that single post card. It was a picture of the Golden Gate
Bridge, not that I was actually looking at the picture. I was far more concerned with trying to see through to the other side
without touching the card for fear it was merely an illusion that, once touched, would simply disappear from sight.

Not until Hank’s soft whimpering reminded me that we needed to get into the house did I realize that we were still standing on
the walk. I tried to the shake the feelings of fear and dread, and led the dog into the darkened house. However, my eyes never
truly left the post card. I was afraid to let it out of my sight.

Finally, I made myself set the thing down with the other mail and released Hank from his leash. I forced myself to go back into
our newfound routine; walk, water, food, bed, work, repeat. Such was the state of my life without Sara, much as it was before,
only now I had Hank to remind me not to forget any of the steps.

After putting out a fresh bowl of water, I got to work getting our food ready. Chopping up the appropriate ingredients for his
supper, I followed the recipe for the natural dog food Sara discovered after our near miss with the tainted pet food recall last
spring. Once she read about the things that were in most pet foods, she was insistent that we change his diet and make the
food ourselves. And so, Hank, much to his chagrin, has virtually become a vegetarian. Outside of the butcher bones that I
subversively slip to the dog when Sara is at work, the poor thing has been meat free for months. But oddly enough, even
without her here, I have continued to follow the routine.

When I placed the bowl onto the floor, I watched as Hank enthusiastically followed it down and began to devour it with an
intense voracity. Perhaps I was transferring my own thoughts of deprivation onto the dog, because he really doesn’t seem to
mind the vegetarian meal. I suppose that he must also be willing to adjust his life, in the name of love.

Thoughts of love immediately brought my full attention back to the post card sitting on the entry table. Foregoing my own food,
I made my way back to the card. How could something as innocuous as a post card be the source of so much apprehension
and worry?

Overcome with a sudden need for privacy, I took it into the bedroom.  I had no idea what was on the card. It could have been
something as simple as, “Hey, I’m in San Francisco. Love, Sara,” but I wanted it to be mine, and mine alone. And so, I left the
sounds of a happily munching dog in favor of the comfortable and quiet surroundings of my bedroom; our bedroom.

As I sat down on the edge of the bed, I reached over and flipped on the lamp before grabbing my glasses from the nightstand.
Inhaling sharply, I held my breath for a moment, slipped on my glasses and slowly released the breath. The moment of truth
was upon me.

I flipped over the post card and read the small and carefully printed words on the back.
Working purely on auto-pilot, I reached into my pocket and retrieved the cell phone. I carefully deciphered the lettered code at
the bottom of the card and entered the digits into the phone. When I triggered the save function it asked me for a name.

Without any thought at all, I punched the appropriate keys: 222, 666, 777, 2, 9999, 666, 66.
NEXT