He trudged along like a ghost in mourning. Paula sighed as she pulled back from her living room window. Curtis Warren, her middle-school English teacher from decades ago, had lost his wife to a drunk driver less than a year ago. Paula heard that his family was concerned he would take his life. She knew the feeling. When her husband died from cancer five years go, Paula became a vagabond. She came back home a few months ago to be with her dad in his last days. She didn't know how much longer she would stay. "Oh, no!" Paula rushed out her front door and down to the sidewalk where Curtis lay sprawled. She helped him up and held onto him until he was steady on his feet. "My mind was thinking of other things," the 70-year old man said. His voice rough as if he hadn't spoken in a long time. "It happens," said Paula. "Come up to my porch, Mr. Warren, and sit for a while. I have fresh lemonade." "No, no," he said, shakin