was pecling off from weather. What stood there now was a small red building, its bricks wet from the previous rain. A small window and a small door broke its smooth lines. “What a fake!’ Philip’s senses roared to him. “The barber pole is painted on the window!” With a knot in his stomach he now noticed the building standing beside the small barber shop. He wondered where the small malt shop had gone that had once stood there, the gathering point where everybody went and had a blast with the juke box. Philip took a few steps forward and leaned on the glass door of the drugstore that now in and stood there. The stood before door yielded to his weight, the check stand with its black and cash he shufiled register. The dim light held sight from his eyes until they had accustomed themselves to it. Philip began perspiring once inside the dank shop. The sound of the ringing cash register brought the dark little shop into the world of reality. The mixed aroma of French fries and cooking hamburgers filled his head. Philip peered into the confines of the shop and clearly made out three aisles. Each one with its grey end held its own bounty of household goods and remedies. “So different from the brown wooden stands that once held the things we needed,” he thought. He shuffled around and walked to the fountain at the right of the door. Philip sat down on one of the padded, backless stools. He placed his hands on the pink formica counter and rubbed his hand along its smoothness. A waitress walked up to the opposite side of the fountain and took out her order pad. She flipped the cover over with the eraser of her pencil and uttered, “What’ll it be?” Philip looked up and saw a pimpled, sunburnt face staring back at him. Indecisively he stuttered, “Ah ... Well .... I'll have a ...a...a chocolate soda.” we're Unconcerned, she out of chocolate “Yes,” he said. almost automatically returned, “Sorry, today. May I make it a vanilla?” but The waitress walked away and left Philip. He looked around him and noticed there were only two other people at the fountain with him. One, a woman, was particularly uninteresting to him except for one feature. She had a wide nose, flattened and inflamed at the nostrils. Philip laughed to himself. The other was a young boy, about six. He fixed his face in a frown that popped his freckles olf the bridge of his nose. Philip thought, “Was it possible he couldn’t make up his mind?” His mind floated back. “Yes,” he thought, “just like the kids that used to gather around the candy jars in the old malt shop.” _ Philip shifted his thought to why he was here .. . Kathy. Philip smiled to himself. Twenty years had gone by since he had last seen her. She had been his first girl. He remembered memories. her well. The As a middle-aged man, truth was that all he had were Philip had lost his taste for pretty iF young girls. His eyes went in the direction of more mature women. But Kathy symbolized the dream of his youth, a distant and wonderful world. Philip thought back to the old days when he was barely twenty and she nineteen. One incident cropped up out of nowhere and into his mind. It had been a spring day, and the warm sun danced in the glistening drops of dew on the green grass. Cows in distant pastures were bellowing. The apple orchard was full of the season's best crop, early and delicious. The odious aroma of the presence of cows floated across the orchard. He and Kathy were climbing the trees and romping though the tall green grass. He laughed at her when she laughed because her dimples would pop in and out. They ran and stopped when they got across the apple orchard. They then sat down on the grass and laughed. Philip was jarred back to reality by a roar of laughter. Two women were laughing—the woman with the inflamed nose and another. Philip could see little of the other except two rough, calloused hands and swollen legs. Two children were prodding and pulling at a small panda bear at her feet on the filthy tile floor. “What do you do with your time now?” questioned the buttonnose. “Oh, nothin’ much. You see this?” The one with the swollen legs pointed with one calloused hand to her fat left forearm. It looked like a balloon full of paste, oozy and limp. Bruises and cuts abounded on it. “This is what Papa does with his extra time!” she shouted. “Oh, by the way, did you hear about theWidow Mayer? She’s getting married again! That old slob getting married .. .” She now sounded contemptuous. One of the children below her tugged at her dress. “Oh, shut up, you little beggar!” she shouted. “See him?’ She pointed at one of them. “He’s everyone’s pet. Everybody thinks he’s such a gentleman. A fat lot they know!” She lost her breath. “He’s his Papa’s pet!” she shouted. She looked down at the child and turned her voice to a wishy-washy whine. “You can wrap him around your finger, can’t you? You little brat. I oughta .. .” She then stopped and switched to another topic. Philip turned to look in her direction. He could still see only the hands and legs, now glistening with sweat. The woman’s constant chatter was getting on Philip’s nerves. “What a repulsive : blabber-mouth!” he thought. The one with the swollen She dragged her two children struggled in her grip. The soda jerk was passing “Could you tell me where questioned. “Why, she’s just leaving. wants to talk with you.” legs stood up and started to leave. across the tile floor, while the two | by, and Philip caught his attention. a certain Kathy Nilser lives?” Philip Kathy! 13 Hey, Kathy, this fella here