Back in the room, Frank has revived. He’s still groggy and disoriented. He knows 
there is something he is supposed to do, but he can’t remember what it is.
Frank hesitated. “I remember. . . . I don’t know what I remember. I needed to do something. I still need to do something. It’s really important, but I can’t remember. . . .” His voice dropped to a whimper. “I can’t remember.”
Marka fixed the coffee, again in the Styrofoam cups, and carried them into the living room. She handed one to James and set the one for Frank in front of him. She took a seat in the chair, as far from Frank as she could get in the little room. The pile of journals sat on top of the television. James had left them in plain sight, but didn’t draw attention to them.
They sipped their coffee, the…
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Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 