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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.





Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


LOVE IS NEVER GONE

The Year: 2014

Chapter 1

A.J. Quartermaine released a deep breath and rubbed his sweaty palms together as he observed the modest, two-story house on the corner of Arch and Spruce Streets in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He tried to tell himself the humidity of the hot summer day was causing him to perspire, but he knew better. He'd had a feeling of unease and restlessness since receiving her letter.

Now, staring at the light blue house with dark blue trim, a well-kept lawn and a hedge that seemed to divide the property line, he wondered if he'd made the right choice. He questioned, for what seemed like the hundredth time, whether or not he'd read her letter correctly. She did want him to visit, didn't she?

Before climbing the four concrete steps which would lead him to her door, he pulled the envelope from his jacket pocket and read the address on the return label one more time to make sure he had the right house: 2501 Arch Street. He had the right address. But did he have the right to show up so unexpectedly?

He pulled the letter from the envelope, read her handwritten words one more time, and told himself she was expecting him. True, he hadn't called her first, but that was because she had not provided a phone number, only an address. He could have called information to find out if she was listed, but he took her not providing a phone number to mean she wanted to see him. Bolstered once more by his own deductive reasoning, faulty though it may be, he returned the letter to its envelope and the envelope to his pocket, released one more deep breath, and then, before any more doubts could assail his already overworked and overwrought mind, he rang the doorbell. Anxiety and a sense of dread filled every ounce of his body, but somewhere, deep down, he knew excitement waited to make itself known. If only the letter he possessed meant what he thought, no make that hoped, it might.

At least ten different greetings swam through his mind as he waited for someone, anyone, to arrive. When the door, painted the same light blue as the rest of the outside of the house, was finally pulled back, all thought left his brain. His mouth turned to cotton. He could utter no sound.

"Yes?" an attractive young female, with flawless skin the color of caramel, asked. "May I help you?"

A.J. did not recognize the face or the voice, but he would know those eyes anywhere. They mirrored his own. Was it possible? Could it be? Was this the reason she had written him a letter?

The teen-ager, who looked to be about sixteen, waited for her guest to identify himself.

"May I help you?" she asked again, starting to sound bored when no words were forthcoming from A.J.

"I-I'm sorry. I-I'm here to see Keesha Ward. Is she available?"

"May I tell her who you are?"

"Yes. Please do. My name is A.J. Quarter-"

A.J. had no sooner started to say his last name when the door slammed shut in his stunned face.










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