By Stephen C. Schultz The large Douglas fir trees were black silhouette’s against the cotton like sky that glowed as the city lights reflected off the low billowing clouds. There was a January mist in the air that was more than fog, but not quite rain. The moisture wrapped around you; cool and unnoticed, until you entered a home or a building and you realized that you were wet. I was at the home of a friend of mine who happened to be a girl. We attended the same high school and had dated a few times and enjoyed each others company. While it wasn’t a serious relationship, it was a relationship none the less. Looking back, that evening started with a phone call, you know, the call where I was on the couch in the family room talking on the phone that was connected to the kitchen by a thirty foot phone cord. We were discussing what we wanted to do that night. She mentioned that she had heard of a party taking place not far from where she lived. She ask...
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