Indian Summer had finally been broken by a strong cold front moving in from the east, off the river. Stepping onto the sidewalk, David held Thomas tightly to his chest. Glancing up the block, the island was shrouded in a dense, London like fog. An icy wind whipped over Manhattan, funneled through the long city blocks. "Come on, Tommy," David whispered in Thomas' ear, lowering his head to be heard against the buffeting gusts. Trying to shield Thomas from the biting wind, David finally spotted the rickety, black Model T waiting to take them across the bridge to the cemetery. The automobile was idling across the street. "Thank you," David said, climbing into the lumpy passenger seat in the back of the car. He gently set Thomas down on his lap, the toddler shivered in his arms. The grizzled driver glanced over at David with a look that registered between indifference and actually caring. He had participated in too many services to be truly invested. “Calvary?" "That's right," David replied. It had been a snowy morning just before Christmas when David first set eyes on Jessica.
What do You think about Drowning In The East River?
