I left Butch’s trailer and headed back toward San Clemente, but not before stopping back at Straight Ahead just to see if Paul might have showed up since I’d been spending time with Butch. The place was open like it always was, but Paul was nowhere to be seen. I’d known he likely wasn’t there because his car wasn’t parked out front, but I’d already decided to contact him. I sat at his desk and, searched around until I found a blank piece of copy paper to write a note. My message was simple since all I wanted was at least one more opportunity to talk to the man who’d been so helpful to me in so many ways. I didn’t know when I’d be leaving and it was important to at least say goodbye if not discuss other things a little bit more. Butch was a great counselor but he was hard-core tough, not classically educated in psychology nor as objective as he might be for the job of being my therapist. I scribbled out the note to have him call me and folded it up. There was no envelope so I simply let the paper lay in the center of the desk.

“Who are you?” A female voice said from the doorway.

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