July 9, 1957. Three more days to get Paul and John to meet. Which would hopefully happen today.
“Can’t believe you talked Dad into lettin’ us do this,” Paul laughed happily. “You’re something special, Gloria.”
I beamed with pleasure. It was the next morning, and we were riding on a bus down to Windsor, since Paul was at least able to buy us bus fare if not train tickets. The bus bumped and shuddered along something awful, but I could deal with it, because Paul had his arm around me.
Then Paul looked at me, and by this point, I recognized the curious light in his eyes. “Paul....”...
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