I never asked, but Shantay must have really thought I was a sight when she came upon me as I sat there in my dusty Civic, watching the minutes between where I was and where I needed to be fritter away, where the asphalt was divided from red brick by a couple of metal barriers. I was looking bewilderedly at the flickering fairy lights in the trees on the pedestrian mall in the waning light of day when Shantay hefted her ample bosoms on the passenger windowsill and scrunched her ebony face down to where she could look me in the eye. Her hair radiated in gray and black wisps from a wrinkled, expressive face that managed to display humor and slight concern simultaneously. Sensing her presence, I looked up into the face of a woman who looked just about as far down on her luck as possible, and every good intention I had of making that job interview in seven more minutes was shattered when she put on a sympathetic expression and said, ‘You all right, honey? Do you need help?’ She was asking. Sarah allowed herself to think back as she continued waiting for Annabel to calm down, to the day that Annabel, scarcely a child, no more than 18 years old, had turned up on the Sanitarium’s doorstep with her Aunt Liza. Aunt Liza had demanded that Annabel be admitted, claiming that the girl was crazy, and that there was no hope for her mind or for her soul. That she as a devout Christian woman, believed that Satan had claimed her for his own, upon her reaching an age of maturity. Sarah silently shook her head as she remembered how pale Annabel had looked, and how withdrawn she had been. Barely doing more than shuffling as her Aunt Liza, walked and held tightly onto her arm, almost dragging the poor child along, the woman’s knuckles a soft white because of the tightness of her grip. The child had looked to Sarah with saddened eyes that seemed to show little hope or much of anything else. Annabel looked up to Sarah’s face, seeing her faraway expression, she sighed almost silently, and.
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