She grimaced a smile sympathetically. “Do you think we should stop? We’re only an hour from home.”“Mom’s worried.”With a slight tone of ...arcasm, I answered, “That doesn’t surprise me, either.”“Dad,” she chided me gently.“Well...it doesn’t,” I confirmed. I took a breath and sighed. “But...I’ve kind of been thinking about it. It’s really getting bad out here. The fastest I’ve been going is forty.”Sophie sighed quietly. “So we’re more than an hour away.”“Yeah, I guess,” I huffed softly. . Her hair was admittedly magnificent and a tribute to the one hundred strokes administered by one of her adoring school mates each and every day. Her best friend Agatha kept her tiny ginger bush neatly trimmed with the special little scissors that she kept hidden inside her school uniform and sometimes caressed lovingly because it was so familiar with Anne's magic garden. Sometimes the shockingly weak and impressionable Agatha would press the small tool between her legs and revel in the thought. More

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