Pipe smoke. "Let's sit on the porch tonight," Tom says as he leads me to the porch. We sit in the rockers and watch the violence in the sky. "I was remembering about the airplane," I say finally. "Yeah," says Tom between puffs on his pipe, "number 233 on the list of stupid, stubborn things Tom did in his life." I laugh at this. "Glad you can laugh now, Franny," he says as he strokes my arm. "You promised me nothing would happen," I say with a sigh. "I made lots of those, didn't I?" We sit in silence for a few minutes just rocking and watching the distant lightning over the water. "Lots of what?" I ask while I reach for his hand. "You know," Tom puffs on his pipe, "empty promises." His voice is full of regret. "Some," is all I say to him, but I think, 'yeah, you did. You were stubborn and selfish and wouldn't listen to criticism or advice.' "I remember that night like it was yesterday." "Oh yeah," agrees Tom, "it's a night etched forever on my brain." "It was a night just like this."
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