“It’s brown.” So maybe I had the teeniest, tiniest, most infinitesimal amount of auburn in my hair. I was still a brunette. “It’s the lighting,” I said.“Yeah, maybe it’s the lightbulbs.” His smile brought up both sides of his mouth, and a dimple surfaced.”

“It’s still all “ifs” “buts” and “maybes”.’ ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But if what I’m saying is correct …”

“It’s wonderful,” his mother says, and I feel something old and familiar course through my blood. It fillsall four chambers of my heart, and I think maybe, just maybe, it’s happiness.”

“It’s not goodbye, Sam. It’s see you in two days. I promise…” she said stroking his hair away from his dimpled cheek.“I’m counting on it. You will be missed,” he said as he put her hand on his chest near his heart. “You will be missed right here…”

“His name is Randy Randy. Or maybe it’s Randy Randy. I always get his first and last names mixed up.”

“What is that?" Dad said, looking at the doll."It’s called the Scream," I said."I know that, but what us it?” Dad said.“Maybe she sleeps with it,” I said to Dad as he tucked it under his arm.“Then no wonder it’s screaming,” he said.”