
She was walking along the back-roads in the middle of the night. Her name was Anne, she said. And I'll be damned. It was a dark, stormy night, the winds were biting and whipping and when she gratefully jumped in my truck, she looked like a drowned rat.
A drowned rat with piercing, blue eyes, soft, velvety, blonde hair and a smile that lifted my spirits - and other things.
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