Free Footprints of Thunder by James F. David Page B

windows.
    Once long ago, Mariel had a friend who lived in the building that used to be where the office building now stood. Sometimes when the kids were at school, Marie! would meet Gertie for coffee and talk. In the summers their kids played in the courtyard together, and Mariel and Gertie would visit or garden. Gertie moved to Florida years ago and was long dead now, and the building she lived in was ten years gone.
    Mariel’s life in the apartment had started out quietly, just her and Phillip. Then the children had come, filling their lives with activity and stress; stress she missed now. When the three children were growing up Mariel had lots of friends, most of them the parents of their children’s friends. Phillip’s work gave them friends too. There was business entertaining and dinner parties. If they weren’t guests, they were hosts. They were involved in their children’s schools too. School plays, music lessons, and a myriad of other activities kept them constantly on the go. Mariel had scarcely a minute to herself in those days and relished the few hours a week she could sit by the window and listen to the sounds. Then the children had grown. Now they all lived in other states and called infrequently. She had Phillip for a few years after the children were gone, and many friends still, mostly connected with Phillip’s work. Then Phillip died suddenly, and with him went the parties and many of her friends. Soon all Mariel had were acquaintances, no friends. Now she only went out three times a week, and then only to do shopping. She used to go to church on Sunday, but then the church had closed and moved to a new location in a better neighborhood. Now Mariel watched church on TV, but it was hard to make church friends through a TV. Her life was quiet now, like the end of the arguments she listened to over the years. Mariel longed for the activity again, for someone to argue with.
    Mariel looked up at the sky for stars. But the bright moon and city lights meant she couldn’t see any. The city wasn’t the place to look at stars, Mariel knew. She never had a good view, of course, but when she had something to do, something to occupy her time, she never thought about stars.
    Now Mariel thought about the stars and the moon, and other things, a lot. Her oldest son wanted her to move to Ohio with him. She could see the stars there, he assured her. But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want a piece of his life. She wanted her own life, even if it was mostly memories now. No, she would live in the apartment until she became a memory too.
    Mariel turned on the TV and flipped through the channels with the remote control. As usual there was nothing on she wanted to watch. Sometimes she thought of getting cable TV. The television guide told her she could get shows like “Father Knows Best” and “Mr. Ed” on cable. It was expensive, though, and she hated paying for what she should be getting for free. She finally settled the dial on a situation comedy. The laugh track told her the jokes were supposed to be funny, but they weren’t. They were bathroom jokes for the most part, and Mariel had never liked that kind of humor and she didn’t appreciate the filthy language in her home. She turned the channel to a TV movie. A young couple were kissing open-mouthed. The woman was naked from the waist up, and Mariel could see the side of her left breast pressed up against the man’s bare chest. Mariel had been shocked the first time she had seen this on TV, but now it was routine and boring. She supposed the networks would soon have to show all of the actress’s breast to keep people interested, and she only hoped she wouldn’t live long enough to have that on her TV screen. She clucked her tongue at the half-naked couple, then turned the channel just as the couple fell onto a bed. She tried the rest of the channels but it was more of the same.
    Mariel turned off the TV and turned on the radio. There was lots of filth