In a cold, basement apartment miles outside of town, with moving boxes still unpacked, and her faith forestalling an emotional breakdown, Vicki Fleeman fingers through a photo album.
"This is my favorite picture," she says. "This was the guy I was crazy about."
His name was Jim. Vicki and he are leaning against an early-model,world-worn Chrystler. They’re posing like couples in love pose for pictures, with embarassed smiles and tied at the hip. Time has taken away much of the color photo's vibrancy as it has so many things since Jim Fleeman's death 10 months ago at the age of 57.