Summer's End

[Jim Lewinski]

"Come on, Aimee! Sheesh!"

Jim paid the cabbie, and climbed out, still rubbing his shoulder with no shortage of melodrama. Aimee had a fist like a brick and had caught him just so; the bone would be throbbing for ages, he just knew it. His humble backpack was tossed over his uninjured shoulder, and he joined Aimee, who was peering through the gate. Beyond, there was a large house with an expansive drive; it had tall glowing windows, twin garage doors, and a picturesque balcony in the middle. Framed by looming maple trees, Jim's home smacked of every extravagance; even its steep sloping roof was needlessly propped up by creamy white columns, like a poor man's Acropolis. Jim looked deflated.

"Somewhere in California, right now, Alex Kaine has just puked his guts out. Help me over the gate, will you, Aimee?"