The morning of the trip was just like any other. George and Margarette woke up at 6:30, ate quietly, took their vitamins and medicines, dressed. The only difference was the silence. It was cold outside so George started the Oldsmobile an hour before they left. As they waited for the car to warm, they sat and watched something on their television quietly.

"How's come you never mentioned John in all these years?" asked Margarette out of the blue. After a few moments, George replied, "I-I don't know." quivered George. "Well I was just wondering, I mean I thought you'd tell me after all these ye-" "I said I DON"T KNOW!" interrupted George annoyed at his wife's persistence.

The rest of the hour was spent in awkward silence as they pretended to be interested in what was on the telivision. George checked his wristwatch, 9:00. "You ready?" asked George. Margarette shook her head yes. They walked to the kitchen, turned off the light, got the keys, and locked the door behind them. The car was warm enough.

George thought for a moment. He knew he should have told his wife about John. About how they had grown up in the same community. About the many fun times they had together. That was along time ago before he met Margarette. The memories were so great. Oh, the memories. Some were bad though. Really bad. The memories that had been the reason he and John quit talking to one another.

"George?" said Margarette, interrupting George's thinking. George sighed and started the car. Both George and Margarette were silent as they pulled on to the long road that lead to Boston.