Treehouse

Ronald C. Bolger


Copyright 2014 Ronald C. Bolger


Published by Ronald C. Bolger at Smashwords




Jim Stone was tired. He had been driving since six o'clock that morning, more than sixteen hours. The trip across the country with his wife and two children, had been exciting but long, and Jim was determined to have his family in their new home that night. He had found a second wind as he pulled off I-94 into Madison, Wisconsin and onto East Washington Street, twenty minutes earlier, but had not realized just how far he had yet to travel to find Oakwood Estates.

Lisa's head rested against the window, her arms folded across her chest. She looked comfortable, pressed tightly into the corner of the door and seat, but her frown after each bump said otherwise. She was somewhere between consciousness and sleep, that place where awareness is no more than a shadow cast by a soft light, where faces are created to fit a voice and noises are given any form a restless mind can conjure.

Timmy was curled into a little person ball.

"Prenatal” Jim reminded himself quietly. "If you're going to write about a doctor you may as well get used to speaking like one." Timmy's head was on the door rest, Kathi's rested on her brother's hip. They were both dead to the world. No bumps in the road were going to disturb them.

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