Anyway I haven’t thought about Bobby in ages. Then, out of the blue, he asks to be my friend on Facebook. Turns out we live one neighborhood apart. ...’m in this wanna-be poshy neighborhood where the young, hip, rich and gorgeous live. Trouble is I’m too old to be “young,” I’ve never been hip, I’ve got too goddamn much student debt to be rich and I’ve never been considered gorgeous. So I don’t exactly fit in, but I found a house I really liked and I bought it. Bobby lived about a half-mile from. At this point her mind began playing tricks – cruel tricks – on her sanity. She was no longer cognizant of where she was and what she was experiencing. Before her was desolation. She spied a wasteland devoid of trees, flowers or grass – a desert of desolation with no vegetation, parched and scorched by the glare of an unremitting sun. Around her yelping, baying and lunging were a pack of feral dogs. Hyenas she thought. Jackals maybe. Rebecca thought the wild dogs waited for her to succumb. More

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