It was after seven at night when Junior ran up the stairs to the second floor and knocked on door number 8.  The stereo was pulsating music from Chumbawamba’s first album. Lydia was in the kitchen serving Sangria and Bali Hi.  Her long hair looked like an Egyptian pyramid without the symmetry.  Lydia wore a sarong skirt and short tank top, and brown sandals.  She … Continue reading Dawn©