I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. And the jailers also retired. Things you would laugh at. The doll she had never owned, the cat and the dog that had never been hers: here they were, strangely incorporated in this sleeping man. It was a tale of battle, murder, and sudden death on the New York waterfront. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. The situation bothered him considerably. But once I started, Forever Fifteen seemed to fly out of me like a bat out of Hell, virtually writing itself. Gregory B.
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