’ This had the opposite effect I’d hoped for. She started to cry again. ‘I need to make you forget this,’ she told me gently. ‘This?’ I as...ed, not comprehending for a moment. ‘You mean … this? Us?’ I really lost it. My throat began to clutch in sympathy as soon as I saw her tears, and now my own began to flow freely. Could she actually do such a thing? Erase something so significant from my memory? ‘No!’ I blurted. ‘Please! Oh, Jean, why?’ ‘It’s not for me!’ she told me, pleadingly. ‘It’s for. The trash man comes early, often before dawn. It is a noisy and aggressive process - emptying the bins. The trash man makes no effort to soften his intrusion into our early morning quietude, so my wife and I usually go on and get up.We've had a long and contentious relationship with the trash man. It's been the same guy for as long as we've lived here. He is a grump and the more we strived to get into his good graces, the more he seemed to dislike us. It's been thoroughly disheartening because. More

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