last time Hope was in my life was early October, 1994. I had just
come back from Seattle, Washington where my twin brother had died. We
met at a bar in Price Hill. Hope
and I got our drinks, went to a table and talked about my brother
maybe for a couple minutes. Then we talked about bullshit things that
didn’t matter. I remember feeling angry about it later, but Hope
was just being Hope. Talking about real life wasn’t something she
was interested in.