Dreamaway’s people were from the hills of western North Carolina, and by that I mean not from a small town, nor even a smaller village, no, Dreamawa... was born and had come of age inside a thirty-something foot long mobile-home on land that might have been called a farm were it not for the fact that most of the land was too steep and rocky to walk across. The family’s farm had been, for all of their lives, hidden from the world below by forests of thick oak and hickory — by a forest so thick. “Are you wearing the stockings I gave you?” he asked when he was in traffic.“No.”“Have them at home?”“Yes.”“We’ll go there first then.” He parked in a guest slot under her building and waited while she signed for it with the evening guard. When he was in her condo, he said, “No panties. Diaphragm. Change clothes if you want, but something with a skirt.”“Where are you taking me?” she asked. There was no sense pretending she had a choice.“My place.”“To eat?”“Sure. I won’t starve you.”His place. More

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