there was this old lady that lived on the end of my street. she was to old to go out so my friend and i would go get her scrips from the pharmacy in the center of town. she always spoke about her husband that had been a pow since 1943 and she was waiting for him to get back to open her dress. she showed us the box and it was a wedding dress. this lady was so crazy she would cook pasta at like 6 am and you could smell it two doors away at my friend's house. this is all true, i was in 8th grade when she died. I remember them taking all of her stuff out of the apartment.
