Descending Road - I DON’T KNOW YOUR NAME by Dana W. Paxson

I DON’T KNOW YOUR NAME

1563 4D

The doctor arrived two days later, in a fine late-evening rain that beat in wind-driven gusts against the side of the house. He shook his hooded cloak out by the front door. Standing at the kitchen entrance a few steps in from the front door, Andrew looked up at this big man, broad-faced, short-haired, with flashing black eyes, who stood even taller than Andrew‘s father had. “Even now, after all you’ve done for me, I don’t know your name,” Andrew said, nodding his head in greeting.

The doctor smiled and nodded briefly in return, running his hand through his curly blue-black hair. “They tell me you want to go home now. Is that true? Ahh, warmth.” He raised his hands to where the cooker’s transfer ducts fed heat into the room from the kitchen.

Andrew nodded. “Yes, I do want to go home. It’s been far too long.”

“Do you know the way from here?” The doctor rubbed his hands together again.

“Yes. Deen explained the road connections.”

Marra and Deen gave Andrew an outfitting, new coveralls and a backpack, with few words exchanged. In thanks, Andrew gave the doctor one of the beam guns; the doctor smiled, exhaled a long breath, broke the gun down, and stuck it in his medpack. Shared tears choked Andrew‘s words of farewell at the door; the tight hugs from Marra and Deen warmed his ribs.

A pang struck him at having nothing to give them for all they had done. Maybe next spring he’d come back with Leil and the kids, when this was all straightened out, and bring these women some good fruit from his place.

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USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	I DON’T KNOW YOUR NAME 1563 4D The doctor arrived two days later, in a fine late-evening rain that beat in wind-driven gusts against the side of the house. He shook his hooded cloak out by the front door. Standing at the kitchen entrance a few steps in from the front door, Andrew looked up at this big man, broad-faced, short-haired, with flashing black eyes, who stood even taller than Andrew‘s father had. “Even now, after all you’ve done for me, I don’t know your name,” Andrew said, nodding his head in greeting. The doctor smiled and nodded briefly in return, running his hand through his curly blue-black hair. “They tell me you want to go home now. Is that true? Ahh, warmth.” He raised his hands to where the cooker’s transfer ducts fed heat into the room from the kitchen. Andrew nodded. “Yes, I do want to go home. It’s been far too long.” “Do you know the way from here?” The doctor rubbed his hands together again. “Yes. Deen explained the road connections.” Marra and Deen gave Andrew an outfitting, new coveralls and a backpack, with few words exchanged. In thanks, Andrew gave the doctor one of the beam guns; the doctor smiled, exhaled a long breath, broke the gun down, and stuck it in his medpack. Shared tears choked Andrew‘s words of farewell at the door; the tight hugs from Marra and Deen warmed his ribs. A pang struck him at having nothing to give them for all they had done. Maybe next spring he’d come back with Leil and the kids, when this was all straightened out, and bring these women some good fruit from his place.