“That's how long it had been since thirty-five year-old Frank DeLuca had been home. It was strange how little had changed in the old neighborhood. He glanced in the rearview mirror. He supposed he didn't look much different than he had back then. His coal black hair was still thick and free of gray. A few small lines had appeared… — Lucinda DuBois Copy Share
“Frank wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her towards him.” — Lucinda DuBois Copy Share Image
“much. Things here rarely did. His childhood home seemed smaller, somehow, even though it looked exactly the same: a two-story, four bedroom, two bathroom,… — Lucinda DuBois Copy Share Image
