In a way, the ball tied the boys to kids everywhere. It was a universal language, made of kicks, head butts, sweeps, and gestures calling for the ball...The game stopped when one of the boys spotted a figure walking down the road. The boys fled the field taking their ball with them. Strangers in the small town represented a danger. One of the boys, as he ran through town, screamed, "A stranger is coming. A stranger is coming."Women ran into houses taking the younger children with them. The men. Suddenly he saw it and almost missed it; a desolate unmarked road to his right. He stopped, backed up, and turned down this shortcut to destiny. Down the road he traveled for miles. He rubbed his eyes again and turned on the AC to put cool air in his face.Finally he came to a deserted diner and pulled over to stop. He picked up the map and looked again. "Was this the right road?" he wondered, the question clearly readable in his expression although he uttered no words. He looked at his. More

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