Even Fran's speech was tight. She rarely spoke with emotion, keeping her speech almost monotone, and her conversations rarely held wasted words. In ot...er words, Fran was tight, like a spring getting ready to pop.That was largely why Abigail looked for opportunities to pull Fran away from work and steer her into casual conversation. When Fran let go, she seemed to relax and was a very pleasant person. Abigail considered it a small victory that Fran recommended the break this time. She decided to. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on.Her musical giggle followed me."Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity. More

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