she smiled and pointed down the hall to a door . the lobby was small and lit by a single , dim bulb . he stared at the hand extended toward him and thought of his own sweaty palms . `` for eight years , i thought he was dead . '' as i should have all of these years . '' it appeared he was barely conscious . there was silence on the other end , then a weak offer to come on down anyway and they would talk about it . she loved this time of year . 