‘We’ll find other wineries. Anything close by?’ ‘Yes, Becker Vineyards.’ ‘The same as the wine we had at the San Antonio restaurant?’ �...I believe so.’ ‘Great, start reading me the directions.’ ‘It’s only ten miles east of Fredericksburg on 290. When we come to an intersection with Jenschke Lane, turn right, follow it, and it’s a few more miles to Becker.’ Ten miles was only a few sips away. Louie turned right onto Jenschke, and after a mile he stopped the car. The road was deserted. We pulled. It was late and I’d finished eating a while ago, and was sitting drinking a cup of tea and writing. That was something that I’d started doing since taking the base. I’d found plenty of paper and pens, and I was hand writing a journal. In a way, it was an account of everything that had happened to me since getting stuck in the here and now. I spent most of the time trying to remember dates in relation to our old recollection of time. I had a feeling that dates would be important in the journal,. More

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