28
TALES FROMTHE FUTURE
It was a photo of Sally’s grandson. “Just as it should be,” John Heitzman
thought. “The house has a different master now, and a different photo, too.”
Heitzman picked up the photo and, just to have something to say, said:
“You came out well in this picture, Georgie.”
“But that’s not a picture of me, Uncle John. That’s a picture of the little
boy Grandma was friends with when she was little. He just happens to look
like me.”
***
A limping John Heitzman was trying to move along the garden path as
quickly as he could, leaning on his stick and stumbling as he went.
He went up to Sally and, breathing quickly, a bit confused, he asked:
“And where is he now? Where is your husband now, Sally? Where is he?”
“John, please calm down. It’s not good for you to be so agitated. Please
sit down,” Sally said softly. “You, see, John, it just so happened that way
back when I was a child, I promised a certain very good little boy that I
would be his wife…”
“But we were just playing,” John practically shouted, jumping up from his
chair. “We were just children playing.”
“Be that as it may, let’s just say that I’m still playing. And that I’m pre-
tending you’re my husband,” Sally said, and quietly added, “My husband and
my beloved.”
“George looks a lot like me when I was a boy. Does that mean you had a
baby after that night, Sally? Did you have a baby?”
“Yes, I had our son, John. He looks like me. But he has your very strong
genes, and our grandson is like a copy of you.”
John Heitzman looked back and forth between Sally and the little boy and
