I’d saved his life once upon a time, now and for evermore he was saving mine.***]Art swings his bucket of clean rinsing water enthusiastically and, ...lutching his bundle of chamois leathers, follows his father down the leafy road. His window cleaner father stops, momentarily checking his notebook, then crosses the quiet suburban street. Art follows.“A certain house down here needs cleaning today, son, and we’ll talk there.”A large detached house with a glimpse of an orangery looms ahead. The. Regardless of their intentions, I also wondered about the consequences-would our parents find a droplet of spent blood ? Would Thierry come home tired and exhausted only to get a beating for staying out too late ? All I had were honest questions that I kept only to myself . I thought about both of them all the time, even at nine years old I was allot like my sister...sleek, slender, and almost too well-developed for my age. I, like Thierry, had short wavy brown hair that was an honest style in. More

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