Disclaimer:  All characters seen or mentioned on the X-FILES
belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Production, FOX network,
DD, GA, etc. and are used without permission.  The character of
Preston Powell Jr. belongs to me, and if I had as much money as
Preston does, somebody might want to sue me for this...but
since I don't... The song IT'S SO HARD TO SAY GOODBYE TO
YESTERDAY, by Freddie Perren and Christine Yarian, is also used
without permission.
  
This is part 1 of a 12 part series, a sequel to TWELVE RITES 
OF PASSAGE.  If you haven't read that story, you may want to read
it first.
  
 
  
TWELVE DEGREES OF SEPARATION
No. 1:  September
It's So Hard to Say Goodbye To Yesterday
By Anne Haynes
 
  

                               
Dana Scully opened her desk drawer and surveyed the contents.
After six years, not really much to call her own.  A few pens,
a couple of half-empty rolls of breath mints. A handful of
pictures she'd sneaked out of the packets of official photos. 
Mostly candids or either her or Mulder, depending on who was
wielding the evidence camera at the time.
       
"Save me some of those."  Fox Mulder's voice was close by her
ear.  

Her hand shook, dropping one of the photos.  It fluttered
to the desk, and Mulder reached around her to pick it up. He
held it where she could see it, too.  It was one of her,
looking like hell.  Mud-streaked, her hair in rain-soaked 
strings, dark circles under her eyes that might have qualified
for an X-File investigation of their own. 
       
"What a babe."  Mulder's dry comment was little more than a
warm breath in her ear.
       
She rewarded his attempt at lightening the mood with a 
half-hearted smile.  "Get the feeling we're not going to be
coming back this time?"
       
"Five strikes, you're out." Mulder sat on the edge of her
desk, facing her.  His hazel eyes were mostly gray today,
matching his suit. "It'll be okay."
         
She shook her head. "No."
         
"We've been through this before."
       
"Mulder, you refused to see me for weeks--and you were still
living here in D.C. that time." She looked away from his
uncomfortably direct gaze, wishing he didn't have such a  
potent effect on her sense of balance.  From the first time 
she'd walked into this office and looked into that earnest, 
boyish face, she'd been lost.  Willingly became Mrs. Spooky, 
following where any sane man or woman would fear to tread.  
She'd have walked through hell to prove herself worthy as his
partner and friend.  She HAD walked through hell. And back.
And now that she owned his respect, loyalty and trust, he was
leaving for Boston and she was returning to Quantico. Six and
a half years, and she was back to square one.
         
"It's not the same this time, Scully."
         
"No. This time you'll be living 400 miles away."
         
"Maybe that's good."
       
She looked up, trying not to show the stabbing pain that cut
through her heart at his words. "Good?"
       
"Scully, maybe it's time you start having that life you're 
always talking about." He put his hand on her arm, but the  
touch was oddly impersonal, much more so than usual.  She had
the strange sensation that she was looking at him through the
wrong end of a telescope, watching him grow smaller and  
farther away.  His hand fell away, leaving her arm feeling
cold.
       
She drew a swift breath and stepped away from the desk, turning
so she didn't have to look at him.  "What about you? Are you
going to get a life?"
       
He slid off her desk.  As he brushed past her on the way to his
more cluttered side of the office, he bent and murmured in her
ear.  "I keep telling you, Scully, I HAVE a life."
       
She forced herself to start packing up her things, working with
methodical precision, driving herself.  But again and again,
her gaze trailed across the room to settle on her soon-to-be
ex-partner. He packed with less feverish determination, but she
could see past the outwardly casual demeanor.  The termination
of the X-Files still had the power to hurt him, even now that
his sister was back, safe and sound.  He'd always hinted that
his obsession with the X-Files would end once he found
Samantha.  But like any addict, he was finding it hard to go
cold turkey.
       
Scully understood.  She was suffering her own withdrawal
symptoms.
       
An hour later, their packing done, Scully and Mulder silently
sifted through the photos she'd found in her desk. He took the
photos of her, and she claimed the ones of him. Neither
commented on their choices. Both looked up when the door to the
office opened and Assistant Director Walter Skinner's bulk
filled the rectangle of light.
         
"I wanted to say a proper goodbye before you two got away."      


Mulder was sitting close enough that Scully could feel the
tension radiating from him.  "Wanna make sure we're really
good and gone this time?"
       
Skinner's mouth twitched slightly.  "I wish I had the power you
seem to ascribe to me, Agent Mulder."
       
Mulder's mouth curved slightly. Scully felt him relax. "So do
I, sir."
       
"Agent Scully, I hope you'll find time to drop in and say  
hello."
         
She nodded.  "I will, sir."
       
Skinner leaned against the door frame, folding his large arms
across his broad chest.  "I believe that the work you've done
here in this division was important work.  It made a
difference.  You have every reason to be proud of what you've
done.  And I'll do everything in my power to make sure that
your accomplishments receive the respect and admiration they  
deserve."
       
Scully felt embarrassingly close to tears.  Mulder shifted   
uncomfortably beside her.
       
"Agent Mulder, I fought for the Boston assignment for you
because I was informed that your sister was working on her
doctorate at M.I.T. this year."
         
"Why not D.C., sir?" Mulder asked.  "Or Baltimore?"
       
Scully looked up at her partner, surprised.  His expression was
unreadable.
       
"The only available assignment in D.C. is wiretapping
surveillance, and I have no intention of wasting your talent
like that ever again.  Baltimore did have an opening, but it
was strictly entry level field agent--not for you.  Boston's
opening is much higher on the ladder.  You'd be in spitting
distance of the ASAC position."       

"I'll never make ASAC, Skinner. You know that as well as I do."
         
"Never is a long time, Agent Mulder."
       
"Wait," Mulder said as Skinner turned to leave.  "Why'd you
stick Scully back in the Academy?  With all she's done--"
       
"She's a department head, Agent Mulder. Also a step up."
         
Scully blinked. "Department head?"
       
Skinner's unexpected smile transformed his face.  "Halloran
forgot
to mention that, Agent Scully.  You'll be head of the Academy's
Forensic Pathology Department.  Six M.E.'s under your
supervision.  I expect you'll be heading up the F.B.I. Academy
in less than ten years--if you haven't already taken my job by
then."  Skinner gave a little nod and left.
        
Mulder shifted restlessly beside her.  "He could've found me
something around here.  I still think he's helping them keep us
apart, Scully."
       
She wasn't so sure anymore.  The jobs she and Mulder were being
offered were far better than they had ever hoped to have,
considering the enemies they'd made over the past six years. 
The thought that Mulder could make Assistant Special Agent in
Charge... "Mulder, this is such a wonderful opportunity for
you. You haven't been on the fast track in years, so maybe you
don't remember just how hard it is to get there.  And you'll be
right there in Boston, not that far from your mom and minutes
from M.I.T. and your sister."
         
"And 400 miles from you."
         
There was still that, wasn't there?  She nibbled her lip.      

"Ah, hell, Scully.  I ought to just resign.  I feel like my
life's not my own anymore."  He slipped the photographs he'd
chosen into his pocket.  "I could go into private practice."
         
"You'd hate it."
         
He nodded. "I'd hate it."
         
"Boston is a lovely city."
         
He nodded again.  "Samantha will be there."
       
"It'll be nice living in Massachusetts again, knowing that 
she's there with you, won't it?  Like healing old wounds."
       
His gaze pierced her, forcing her to look at him even though
she knew it would be painful.  "Sometimes you scare me, Scully. 
You know me so well."
         
She looked down at her hands.  "Cuts both ways."
       
They were silent for a few minutes, but it wasn't an
uncomfortable silence.  After all this time, they were far
beyond the need for small talk.
       
She was the one who finally found the strength to make the
last, fateful move.  "We'd better get moving before we take 
root."  She dropped her selected photos of Mulder into the 
small cardboard box on her desk and reached for her purse, 
which hung off the back of her desk chair.  She picked up the   
box, fighting a wave of unutterable sadness.
       
"Skinner said the Boston office is expecting me bright and
early on Monday morning."  Mulder picked up his own somewhat
larger box.  
       
She noted that he'd left most of the X-File esoterica still 
posted to the bulletin board behind his desk.  No need for it
in Boston, she supposed.  "Are you flying or driving?"
       
"Driving.  My car's still got some good miles left on it, so  
I thought I'd take it with me."  
       
"Guess you don't need me to take you to the airport, then." 
She sighed.  Was this good bye?  This one pitiful moment in
time?
         
"I'll call you before I go."
         
"You don't have a place in Boston yet."
       
"So I'll find one and you'll help me move in. Did I mention I'm
thinking about buying a grand piano?"
         
She smiled.  "I like you, Mulder, but not that much."
       
His laughter was soft, a little rueful. He nodded toward the
door.  "Ready?"
       
As I'll ever be, she thought.  She followed him to the door,
pausing for a second to look back at the office.  By this time
next week, a cleanup crew would've removed any trace that she
or Mulder had been there.  They wouldn't leave it as is this
time.
       
She was about to turn away when she caught sight of the poster
tacked to the wall. I WANT TO BELIEVE.         

"Coming?"  Mulder was several feet up the hall by now.
       
"I forgot something.  Go on, I'll call you tonight."  She
waited until he turned the corner, then went back into the
office.  She carefully removed the poster, rolled it into a
tight tube and secured it with a rubber band from her box.  She 
tucked the poster inside the box and left the office.  The   
ringing click of the shutting door followed her up the hallway.
   
                    *   *   *   *   *   * 
                                
                                                                
Mulder surveyed his apartment, amazed at how little was left to
take with him now that he'd thrown away everything he deemed
non-essential.  Scully accused him of being a pack-rat, but he
knew that his endless clutter was more a result of apathy than
a compulsion to collect things.  Truth be told, Scully had a
lot more keepsakes than he did.  But then, she had a lot more
good memories to want to keep alive.
       
In the end, he was able to pack most of his belongings in his
car.  When Scully called Saturday night, he kept the
conversation short, steering their words far afield from the   
dangerous emotions that roiled inside him.
       
He was losing Scully she was going to be taken from him again
God don't let them take her from me again I can't do this
without Scully don't make me do it without her...
       
The jumble of thoughts terrified him.  It wasn't like he hadn't
known for years now how much he depended on Dana Scully's quick
mind and steely strength.  But as the hour of his departure
approached, regrets were turning to panic, and he was beginning
to realize how utterly their lives were intertwined, even though
they'd
tacitly agreed not to pursue a deeper relationship.

How could it get any deeper, though?  They were so intimate
already, making love would almost be an afterthought....
       
For Scully's sake, he had to make the cut swift and clean.  It
would bleed a little, but time and distance would heal their
wounds.
         
Wouldn't it?
       
And Boston wasn't the other side of the ocean.  It was just 400
miles away.  A six hour drive, less than two hours by air.  If
she needed him, he could be here in no time.  And she could be
there for him.
         
If he needed her.
         
He just had to figure out how to stop needing her.    

They arranged to meet on Sunday for brunch at a favorite D.C.
cafe. He was early.  Eager to see her one last time, he
supposed.
       
She entered the cafe right at the appointed time, her coppery
hair ignited by the mid-morning sun streaming through the cafe
windows.  He wanted to run across the room and grab her, make
her come to Boston with him.  He didn't want to find out if he
could survive without her there to watch his back.
       
She paused as she caught sight of him.  Her small hands
clenched into fists, then relaxed, and she resumed her walk
across the cafe. He turned, pressing his back against the
solidity of the bar, glad for the support.  She held out her
hand and he took it, careful not to crush her fingers.
         
"All packed and ready to go?" she asked.
       
He nodded, tugging her gently to him.  She didn't resist when
he slipped one arm around her shoulders and held her against
his side. 

She leaned her head against his shoulder.  "Promise you'll at
least call, Mulder.  Or e-mail me."
         
"Count on it."
         
She looked up at him.  "I know how you are, Mulder."
         
"Yes, you do."
         
"If you don't call me, I'll call you.  Collect if I have to."
         
"I'll call, Scully."
       
"Don't think you can get away with an unlisted number, because
I have ways of hunting you down."
       
He laughed, which he suspected was her intent all along. "Okay,
Scully, I said I'd call.  Every day, probably, since I doubt
I'll even be able to pick a tie without consulting you."
       
She grimaced, her small Roman nose crinkling.  "I'm not  
taking credit for your ties, Mulder."
       
He wondered what she'd do if he kissed her. The temptation 
was especially strong now, with her standing so close, 
looking up at him with those sad sea-blue eyes. It really 
would be the perfect time, he thought.  A  good-bye kiss.  
Just to see what might have been.
         
Should have been?
       
Then Scully moved away from him and the moment passed.  "Let's
get a table."
       
He motioned for a waiter, who came and seated them.  Scully
ordered a bagel, and he chose an omelet.  They ate in silence,
as if observing their own special ritual.  The releasing of
each other, to other places, other lives.  The omelet stuck in 
Mulder's throat, but he forced it down, keeping up appearances
for Scully's sake.
       
She walked him to his car.  He was already packed and ready to
leave for Boston as soon as he turned in his keys to the
landlord.  He'd arranged for a moving service to take the
furnishings he couldn't pack into his car to a small warehouse 
rental place Samantha had found near her apartment in
Cambridge.  He'd check the furniture out as soon as he found a
place to live.
       
He paused at the car, turning to look at her one more time. 
"I'm staying with Samantha at her place until I get a chance to
rent a place."
         
"Call me to let me know you got there safely."
       
"I will.  Um, by the way, I need to get my spare key back from
you."
       
She glanced up quickly, unable to wipe the stricken look from
her face.  He felt a little queasy at the sight.  "I have to
turn it in to the landlord."
       
She looked away, rummaging through her purse until she found
her key ring.  Her fingers trembled as she removed his spare
key and handed it to him.  He caught her hand and held it. They
stood in the bright sunlight, eyes narrowed against the glare
as they looked at each other for a long, aching moment.  Then
Mulder opened his arms, and Scully hurtled forward, pressing
her face against his chest.  He felt her body shake, reminding
him of another time and place, when he'd held her, comforting
her after Donnie Pfaster had almost killed her.  He remembered
telling her it would be okay. 

He'd believed it then.  But he wasn't so sure now.  So he
stayed silent.  He wouldn't lie to her, even to make her feel   
better.  Or himself.
         

*  *  *  *  *


Scully's mother dropped by her apartment unannounced and
stayed with her all afternoon and into the evening.  They
talked about everything but Mulder's departure.  Scully knew
her mother was aching, too.  She loved Mulder as if he were
her own child.  Her other sons were far away--had been for
years.  She'd grown accustomed to brief visits, few and far
between.  But since Missy's death, Scully knew that her
mother and Mulder had been in frequent contact--phone calls,
usually a weekly visit to catch up.  It had started
partially as a typical Mulder penance--he'd missed Melissa's
funeral out of his overwhelming sense of guilt, then felt
guilty about that, too.  So he'd spent part of Mother's Day
with Margaret Scully, then the next Saturday afternoon...and
the Thursday evening after that. 
  
Soon, he was almost seeing as much of Scully's mother as
she was herself.

Mulder almost never included Scully in those visits.  It was
his special time with her mother, and Scully had respected
their privacy.  Still, now that he was physically removed
from her, she missed that time they'd spent apart, even the
times he'd spent with her mother.  She wanted more time with
him.

Only when the phone rang around seven o'clock did
either woman bring up Fox Mulder's name.  Margaret Scully
looked up at her daughter and mouthed the word, "Fox?"

Scully answered the phone.  "Hello?"

"It's me, Scully."

She smiled and nodded at her mother.  "You sound tired,
Mulder."
       
"Six hours on the road with the unwashed masses, Scully. It
made sea travel suddenly much more attractive."

She chuckled, knowing just how bad a sailor he was. 
"How's Samantha?"

"Just as hard to live with as she was twenty-six years
ago."  He made an "oomph" sound that sounded suspiciously
like a sisterly whack on the back.  "She's messy, too.  Must
be a Mulder trait after all."
   
"I've always said so."  She glanced at her mother, who sat
forward, eagerly trying to fill in the blanks of the
one-sided conversation.  "Mom's here.  I think she'd like to
talk to you."  Tamping down her reluctance, she handed her
mother the phone.

"Hello, Fox, how are you?"

Scully leaned back, soothed by the sound of her mother's
voice.  She closed her eyes and listened with Mulder's ears,
trying to feel what he must feel when he talked to her
mother.  She knew that he loved his own mother, but all 
that had happened during the years before and after 
Samantha's abduction had taken a heavy toll on their family  
and on Mulder's relationship with his parents.  Anger and
guilt that couldn't be overcome easily.  But with Scully's
mother, Mulder had known nothing but unconditional,
overwhelming love.  The love Margaret had always given her
own children, love that had weathered adolescent rebellions
and adult disappointments.
       
Tears filled Scully's eyes as she heard her mother's words
with Mulder's heart.  "I expect phone calls, Fox.  At least
on Christmas and Mother's Day."  Scully wiped away her
tears.  She saw her mother smile at whatever Mulder said in
reply.  "Me, too.  Here's Dana again."
         
Scully took the phone.  "I'm back."
       
"You Scully women are real nags, you know?"  He softened the
words with vibrant affection that reached through the phone. 
"I'm racking up a big phone bill on Samantha's phone, and
I'm afraid she'll try to make me pay it."  Another "oomph"
sound indicated that Samantha was still listening. 
  
She heard a soft, unintelligible sound and Mulder added.   
"Samantha sends her love."
         
"Send mine back."
         
"Can I keep some for myself?"
       
Scully couldn't find words for a second.  He sounded so  
much like a lost little boy that she was afraid she'd choke
up.  She swallowed the hard lump in  her throat and found
the strength to reply.  "All you can hold."
       
He didn't answer right away, and she could feel his  
struggle with emotions through the phone line.  He took a 
wobbly breath as if he were about to speak, but he fell
silent again.  Nothing could stop Scully's tears this time. 
       
"If I don't hear from you by Tuesday, I'm calling your ASAC
and filing a complaint."  She hoped her voice didn't sound
as thick and teary as she thought.
       
"I'll call you tomorrow." His voice sounded hoarse.
Strained.
       
"Bye."  She couldn't wait for his answering good bye.  She
hung up the phone and buried her face in her hands. 
       
A moment later, she felt her mother's strong arms wrap  
around her. "He's not that far away, Dana."
       
She pressed her burning face against her mother's shoulder. 
"He was already too far away before he ever left, Mom."
         
"Did you ever tell him that?"
       
She drew back, mortified at the thought.  "No, of course
not.  Do you know how unprofessional it is to be so  
emotionally attached to your partner?"  It was better that
she'd never told him how she felt.

"He's not your partner anymore."
         
Scully shook her head.  "He's gone, Mom."
         
"Boston's just an hour or so away by air."
         
"It's finished."
         
"It doesn't have to be."
       
Scully rubbed her hands over her face, wiping away hot, 
salty tears.  "Maybe this is what it will finally take for
him to have a happy life.  I'm not going to stand in the way
of that." 
         
"Maybe you're what will make him happy."
       
"It would've happened already if it were going to, Mom." She
knew Mulder loved her, in his own way.  But she didn't 
believe he loved her the way a man loved the woman who   
would claim his bed and bear his children. And she didn't
really love him that way, either. She didn't.  

Really.
  
                *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
  
Samantha curled up on her couch next to Mulder, resting her
head against his shoulder.  He wrapped his arm around her,
marvelling at the feel of her solid warmth against him. 
He'd looked for her so long, but until she'd actually 
walked out of that warehouse in Baltimore, he'd never truly
believed he'd see her again.
       
The strangest part of finding her was finding out how close
he'd been time after time.  She'd been living in San Juan,
Puerto Rico when he went to the SETI array in Arrecibo. 
Working at a restaurant in Atlantic City during the Jersey
Devil case.  Visiting New Mexico with friends the fateful
April when he'd barely escaped death in a fiery boxcar.
She'd even been attending the University of Oregon that time
he and Scully went to the Pacific Northwest on their very
first X-File investigation together.
       
"I would never have found you without Scully, Samantha."     
                                                             
"I know."
       
"She got me through so many nightmares. I didn't think I 
needed anybody until she walked into my office." He smiled
at the memory.  She'd walked in, looking like Ms. J. Edgar 
Hoover with her sleek red hair and her tailored suits.  He'd
dripped sarcasm, hoping she'd run screaming for the hills,
but she'd just smiled that little Mona Lisa butter-wouldn't-
melt-in-my-mouth smile of hers, and he'd been sunk.  Day by
day, she'd gotten under his skin--sometimes aching like a
splinter, sometimes soothing like a balm, but always delving
deeper, making herself more irrevocably a part of him.  He'd
never had a relationship--no friendship, no romance, no
family tie--that was deeper or more satisfying than the bond
he had with Scully.
       
Their quick goodbye in D.C. hadn't severed the tie.  She   
remained inside him, a warm, bittersweet throbbing.
         
"You're going to miss her," Samantha said.
         
God, yes.
         
"She can come visit," Samantha added.
       
Not right away, he knew.  She'd have to dive right into her
job at the Academy.  Being department head over all those
male M.E.'s was going to be tough.  Scully was up to it, of 
course, but he wished he could spare her the headaches she'd 
be facing in the months to come.

All he did know was that he wasn't going to let his sudden
neediness get in her way.  "We'll both be busy settling   
into our new jobs."
       
"So maybe she can visit over the Thanksgiving weekend?"
       
Maybe, Mulder thought.  He didn't want to think about it too
much. He could picture himself obsessing on the thought of 
her coming to visit.  Counting the days, hours and minutes. 
    
Driving himself crazy.
         
"Fox, you know, Preston's coming by on his way home."
       
Mulder glanced at his sister.  "Are you asking me to get
lost?"
       
She smiled.  "No.  I'm just trying to prepare you so you'll
be on your best behavior."
       
"Much as I'd love to hang around and chat with you and 
Thurston Howell the Third, I'm beat.  I'll just grab the
couch in the utility room and get some sleep."
       
"Fox, I told you to take my bed.  I'll sleep on the couch  
out here."
       
"I'm used to sleeping on a sofa, Samantha."  He winked and
stood.  "Besides, you might need that bed yourself."
       
"Fox!"  She threw a sofa cushion as he retreated down the
hall.
       
He closed the door to the utility room, surrounding himself
with darkness.  He didn't expect sleep to come easily,
especially without a television to lull him.  And it didn't.
       
Sometime later, he heard the door open and voices.
Samantha's boyfriend, Preston.  He tried to soothe himself
with the happy timbre of her voice, the gentleness he heard
in Preston's lower tones.  Soon came the sound of music, and
he imagined his sister and the man she loved, sitting side
by side on the sofa, hands entwined, hearts in tune.  The
music was slow and soft, the kind Samantha liked.  The tune
sounded vaguely familiar, and he closed his eyes, trying to
make out the words. 

    
     "I don't know where this road is going to lead,
     All I know is where we've been and what we've been through,
     If we get to see tomorrow I hope it's worth all the rain
     It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.
     And I'll take with me the memories
     To be my sunshine after the rain,
     It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterday."
    
 
Mulder opened his eyes and stared into the darkness, missing
Scully.
  
                 *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *
                                
Scully had to admit that Mulder kept his promise to call. 
Every day, he rang, and they talked in brief, narrative
spurts, outlining their days, how the new jobs were going. 
Mulder sounded tired but she could tell he was slowly easing
into the new rhythm of the Boston field office.  As for
herself, she was meeting all the expected resistance from
the men under her supervision, but after six and a half
years of dealing with heptivorous mutants, E.B.E.'s and
vicious government conspiracies, six testy male pathologists
were a walk in the park. Missing Mulder was a much harder
problem to overcome.
       
If only she didn't feel so utterly separate from him.  Their
conversations were full of information but short on any real
meaning.  He wasn't there in the room with her where she
could read his expression, discern his thoughts in his eyes. 
He wasn't there to put a steadying hand on her back when she
needed it.  And she wasn't there to protect him from the
slings and barbs from his heartless fellow agents.  Mulder
had a reputation that was bound to follow him, even to
Boston.  She hated the thought of him facing all that alone
again.  He'd been so alone when she first met him.  One man
against the whole world.  She liked to think she'd done that
much for him. Helped him see he didn't have to be alone.
       
And if another woman reaped the benefits of her work, she'd
have to find a way to be happy for them both.  She thought
she might even be able to bear it, if she just knew she   
still owned a little part of him that no one else could take
away.
       
On Friday of that first week apart, she got a sign of sorts. 
An envelope came in her daily mail, postmarked Cambridge,
MA, with an unfamiliar return address in Mulder's quirky
scrawl.  She ripped the envelope open.  A shiny new key
slipped into her lap.
       
She quickly scanned the accompanying note, a smile spreading
across her face.
           
"S,
I'm thinking about getting more fish.  I'm over 
the grief of losing the last crop.  So how about 
jotting down my new address and hanging onto this 
key?  The fish flakes will be by the tank, like 
always.

The guys here in the Boston field office are 
turning out to be okay.  When I find one that looks 
as good in a skirt as you do, I'll grab him for 
my partner.
                                             M."
         
She retrieved her key ring from the hall table and flipped 
through the keys.  She found the newly empty space, and 
quickly, before fate could change its mind, she put the new
key where the old one had been. 
         
It looked right, she thought.
         
And she realized she was already starting to feel better.
         
         
END OF #1