About six years ago, a dark-haired, thirtyish man in a white
T-shirt pushed an arresting young woman in a wheel chair up the main aisle of
the hardware store. She had intense brown eyes, smooth tan skin, like her
companion, and exuberant, thick eyebrows.
He approached me. “Do you have a little time you can spend
with my sister? Anna has a few questions.”
“Sure. What can I help with?” I said. I was grateful. I am a
rover in the store, free to help almost anybody with pretty much anything, but especially
a pretty girl.
The girl had the same shiny rich, black hair as her brother,
shoulder length. Her upper body was brown and broad; her legs were in jeans,
but Velcro-wrapped to the foot rests of the chair.
“Well, I hope you can help me with pulleys, because I have
to invent some things. I can picture it, but I need help to get the pieces
together.”
Her eyes were mirrors into which I didn’t dare look. “Okay. Anna, I’m Jerry. What are we building?”
