“Anything to declare?” “Yes,” I said, patting the bag on the passenger seat. “How many items?” “Four.” “Could I see a receipt?” I handed him my receipt. “It says you bought five items.” I counted things up in my head and I said, politely, no, one sweat shirt, one t-shirt, some panties and a cork screw. “But you bought two pairs of panties. That makes five.” “Yeah, but they’re the same so I counted them as one.” “Pull over to that empty spot please.” I tried not to roll my eyes but I know I did. I chatted with the next officer or whatever and they took my bag and escorted me inside. Ugh! I said that out loud and meant every syllable. I waited fifteen minutes or so before an officer or agent or whatever came in with my bag. She dumped everything on the table in front of us. Now, you know me, I’m not any kind of fashion expert regarding proper uniforms for crossing guards, but hers seemed a little off to me. For one thing, her coat was severely cinched at the waist, like if you could. “It’s the same bloody thing. Ouch!” Rosanna yelped as she exited the car. Casey slammed the door and the cabbie sped off. “Come on, Ross. You need medical attention.” Casey put her arm around Rosanna’s waist and they made their way slowly up the stairs. “What kind of accessible apartment house is this? There are no ramps for wheelchairs,” Rosanna complained. Oh my God, Solace has had an effect on me. I would never have thought twice about ramps. “It’s an old building and we don’t have anyone who uses a wheelchair here.” Casey answered, wondering When on earth had Ross become concerned with accessibility issues? Casey thought she would definitely have to find out how Ross had spent the last ten years. As they were riding up in the elevator, the door opened on the floor below Casey’s and a tall be-spectacled man entered. He had a milk-chocolate complexion, curly hair and wore khaki pants with a baby blue shirt and loafers. “Hi Case,” he greeted jovially. “Hi Leander. This is Rosanna.
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