How was she going to tell this story? She had once been known for the way she could take facts and present them in such a fashion that the people and places associated with the breaking news came alive for readers, meant something to them, stirred their emotions. But then she had gone too far and crossed that very thin line between the realms of journalism and fiction. “Theo,” Mrs. Velo shouted up the stairway. Suzanne startled at the unexpected noise, another part of living in a boardinghouse that she would have to learn to tolerate. “Telephone call for you,” Mrs. Velo added in that same raised voice meant to carry all the way to the attic. Suzanne listened for Theo’s steps. They told their own story. They were slow at first, hesitant as if he hadn’t heard Mrs. Velo correctly. And as if sensing his indecision, Mrs. Velo called to him again. “Theo, it’s for you.” “Long distance?” Suzanne heard Theo ask. “No. You gonna take the call or not?” Suzanne heard Mrs. Velo set the phone receiver down on the hard surface of the table.
