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blanket over the three of them.
    Alex quietly edged toward the stairs. He would have stayed by the doorway all night if she had continued to tell stories. The sound of her voice captivated him. Now that the story was over however, he felt like an intruder in a moment meant for someone else.
    He was almost at the stairs when he spotted a cat walking up the dark hallway toward him. The cat was pitch black and walked awkwardly, hugging the far wall. At first, Alex assumed that the feline had somehow accessed Sandman’s prize stash, but, as it neared him, he could see its left eye was cloudy and dull. The cat’s head tilted in a manner favoring its good eye, leading him to believe it was partially blind. The cat was directly across from him when it stopped, its cocked head turned toward him. The good eye appraised him as a stranger might assess its competition, then the animal turned and tottered its way through the beads into the storytelling room.
     
    Silence greeted Alex on the first floor landing. He saw no one in the dining room, kitchen, or front porch. The house was as silent as the first time he had entered it earlier in the day. Even Chick had vanished, which gave him a distinct feeling of paranoia. He went to the front door and saw a few flower children ambling about on the sidewalk, but none of his housemates. Alone and despondent, he sat on the porch’s top wooden step. He was studying the busy street when he remembered that Sarah was close by, and his mood brightened.
    He thought about retreating into the house, where he might run into her, when she casually walked past him. Before he could ask her where she was going, she turned to face him at the foot of the steps.
    “Did you like my story?” she asked as a cool evening breeze gently grazed her flowing hair.
    Alex was surprised that his clandestine maneuvering was all for naught.
    “I only caught the ending of it”
    “My stories have no endings,” Sarah replied. “That’s the joy of them. Endings are too sad, too final. The best stories go on forever. You’re a writer. You should know that.”
    Alex was about to reply that his boss required his stories to end after no more than four pages when he felt something nudging his hip. He looked down to see the half-blind black cat at his side.
    “It seems that Jezebel has taken a liking to you. That is a good sign. She is very finicky in choosing her friends.”
    Alex rubbed his hand over Jezebel’s head and immediately heard her purr. He looked at Sarah and smiled at his successful bonding with such a choosy cat.
    “I’m going to the park for a while,” Sarah said. “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”
    “Sure” he said, and stood up so quickly that Jezebel jumped in alarm.
    “You might want to bring a jacket. It gets chilly in the park at night.”
    “Stay right there,” he said. Then, as an afterthought, “Can I get you anything?”
    She wore the same thin white dress from earlier. The flowers were still in her hair. Her arms and shoulders were bare and she had only sandals on her feet.
    “I’m okay,” Sarah said, but when Alex arrived back on the porch less that a minute later, he wore a sweatshirt and carried a jacket for her.
     
    During the walk, Sarah asked him about his background, and he told her everything. He was amazed when she did not pursue his father’s military mindset. She seemed more concerned with his own state of mind, which Alex honestly told her was a bit muddled due to the radical differences in lifestyles between Haight-Ashbury and Baltimore.
    By the time they reached the park, she knew quite a bit about him while he still knew little about her. Whenever he asked a question concerning her past, she would change the subject.
    Now they were on Hippie Hill, near the spot where he first saw her. Many young men and women congregated on the hill, but most were near the base where a handful of guitar players drew large crowds.
    Sarah drew stares as they climbed the