I passed through the door to the next office following the scent. A labyrinth of cubicles was before me. I put my faith in my nose and started into th... maze. After several minutes and more than a couple of wrong turns that had forced me to back up and retrace my route, I found myself looking at the back of a woman of middle age. Graying hair cut in a pageboy style, a sweater around her shoulders and there on her desk the source of the aroma. It was a bag of microwave Carmel corn. I hadn't known. She thought about Shawn. She’d been so afraid of him. She used to be afraid he’d hurt her. How silly and how ancient that all seemed now. She wondered what the IQ levels of the men outside her room might be. She bet at least one was functioning on a subhuman level. What if one of them was a crack baby? She’d read about them, their inability to empathize. The more she thought the more frightened she became. She had to get control of herself. If she didn’t she’d soon be nonfunctional. Outside. More

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