All was going as well as expected. I couldn’t help but be distracted by the thought that if Zoe could feel the draft and knew I was there, did she want me to look?The next check was done by phone. “Aw, you’re not coming over this time?”“I wouldn’t want you to catch a draft”. Was that an invitation? Am I over thinking this?About thirty five minutes later Zoe called me. “Hi, can you help me please? I’ve fallen off a box in the filing room and hurt my ankle”. “I’ll be there as soon as I can”. I made my way through the factory as it was the quickest route. I wouldn’t run because if I tripped over we’d both be stuck but I got there briskly. The filing room was a loft above the reception and offices and had thousands of boxes of files and documentation dating back to when the site was opened in the 1970’s. I opened the door at the bottom of the staircase. The thought had crossed my mind that it was some kind of ruse and she wanted me to more than get a sneaky look but I was mostly. As told back home, this family I was to live with had a boy, Spencer Jamison; senior at the same college and was going to be a graduate this year, almost 21—22 years old. Mr. Jamison had passed away couple of years back; Mrs. Jamison [Paula] was a professional lady working as a midlevel executive at a bank. Spencer also had an older sister, Lucinda, who was going to be a nurse soon from a nursing college, not very far off but she lived in the dorm facility.As I came out of the Airport, I noticed the importance of the big name tag, when Paula, Spencer and, Lucinda all saw me, read my name on the name tag and ran towards me to greet and welcome me. They were all very loving, hugging people that made my name tag crumple and almost tore off but by now everyone was calling me by my a bit different first name Tinsley [Tins]. We drove through the beautiful scenery for about 15 minutes to come to a huge brick house. The house was well kept, cozy and clean. It was already evening in Montreal.
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