I don't know why but as Bruce stood there he looked like a small boy. Bruce reached out with his other hand and sort of embraced me as he whimpered. Not knowing what to do I returned the embrace and tried to console him as he whispered ' ... Can we go somewhere so we can talk? ... ' Like a zombie I replied ' ... sure we can talk if you want! ... ' Bruce walked down the path and I followed behind till we arrived at a very wooded area that had lots of underbrush. Bruce looked back at me and said ' ... This is where I go to hang out when I don't want to be with them. I was hiding here when I saw you. ...' We went thru some bush and I found myself in a clearing about ten feet wide with an old wooden bench and broken furniture. Bruce sat on the bench and asked me ' ... here sit here so we can talk ... ' I sat down on the far end and Bruce asked ' ... we can't talk to loud or some one passing will here us so you may want to come closer. ... ' I moved closer as Bruce sort of turned to me. I screamed and tried to get loose, but they must have been boy scouts or something. Their knots didn’t loosen one bit. Some time shortly after that one pair of footsteps came in and I felt someone writing on my skin with a magic marker. I could smell it. They were putting writing all over me! Then he left.I was there for some time when several pairs of hands quietly lifted me up and carried me somewhere. I had no idea where, but they suddenly dumped me into a large back of kind. It was a padded landing, but I suddenly caught the odor of used athletic wear. Socks, underwear, shirts, all stinking and reeking of hard play. The bag was tied shut and then I was lifted up and carried somewhere else. We may have gone outside. But the bag was dropped and I was left alone. I may have heard a car door slam shut nearby, but nothing was moving. I was feeling queasy from the fumes, lack of food, and the remains of a hangover. I may have slept.I’m sure I did, in fact, because I woke up to a moving.
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