The neighborhood was familiar, and as he turned the corner, he realized he’d been here before. A few of his friends from high school had grown up on this street. In fact, he was pretty sure Dara’s rental used to be Kelly Gray’s house, back before she’d gone off to join the army and her folks had moved away. It was from the 1960s, if he remembered correctly, and though it showed its age in a few places, it was in great shape. The crumbling front porch had been rebuilt, and the drab gray paint job from years ago had been replaced by a pale yellow with pristine white trim. Seeing Dara’s Mercedes out front was strange in more ways than one, and with last night still buzzing in his mind, he pulled in the driveway and parked beside the white car. As he got out, the front door opened, and she came down the porch steps to meet him halfway. “Hey.” She smiled, but he could see the uncertainty in her creased forehead. “Hey.”
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