Mr. Williamson, the skin of his aged hands translucent like parchment, would pull a photograph from the box and hold it unsteadily before him. His fin...ers would trace across the surface. Helen would watch Mr. Williamson's face gradually lighten, his eyes shine brightly, and his bent frame slowly straighten. The slightest of smiles would play across his lips, then purse into a kiss. He would slowly return the photograph to the box and close the lid.Like the monotonous flapping of a bellows. I grabbed one and brought them to my nose and sniffed. Mmmmm... musky. Nice. I put them back after a few more sniffs and went back to the tool bench.Just then the garage door started opening up and Beth's car was sitting just outside. She was surprised to see me and just sat in her car for a few. I smiled and waved at her and her husband came back into the garage. She slowly drove in and parked. She got out and her hubby introduced me to her again. "Hi Hon, remember Dave?" "Oh, yeah, hi, how. More

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