Outskirts Press, INC.

Share the life of Henry "Hank" McAlester, a gifted patent attorney from Washington D.C., who experiences intense love, loss, hope, faith and belief over the course of his forty years. Married at an early age, Hank knows deep abiding love, the kind that cannot be explained but must be felt. Years later, when he sees a beautiful woman traveling through Metro Center Station, Hank realizes the woman resembles that soulful love from his past. Could it really be her? Hank embarks on a winding journey leading him to his answer and a valuable truism - Love cannot be measured by time or space, nor can love be measured by distance or proximity. What love is measured by is how a heart feels when it finds a home.

Hank McAlester’s thoughts were adrift when the wind from the incoming Blue Line train slapped him across the face. It was a Tuesday, the day before the “official” start to the Thanksgiving holiday. He had just stepped off the Blue Line coming from the opposite direction when he paused, tuning into the sounds of the evening hustle of executives making their way home to the suburbs. He was in the Metro Center station, right in the beating heart of downtown Washington, D.C. The 6:15 p.m. train flew by him, pulling him back into the moment. The stopping train ground its brakes to a temporary halt, filling the air with the smell of hot wheel grease. The mechanical doors all along the tube opened simultaneously. Waves of people washed into partially occupied cars, now filling them to the brim. The pre-recorded voice reminded passengers the doors were closing and, just as timely as it had arrived, the train promptly pulled away from the station. Hank had been at a hearing at the U.S. Patent and Trademark Headquarters in Alexandria, Virginia, and was now on his way to Vienna for a business meeting.

     Tomorrow, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, was still another workday for most Americans, but it was always a calm day in the business, legal, judicial, and political world of Washington, D.C. Hank had given his staff the Wednesday off and declared he would work from home.

     He guessed he must have zoned out for a moment amongst the hundreds of travelers. When he finally came to his senses, Hank realized he had missed the more convenient transfer at Rosslyn and had ridden the rest of the stops to Metro Center, as if he were headed home. He mentally kicked himself and switched platforms to the Orange Line for the trip to Vienna.

     Yes, Henry Blaine “Hank” McAlester, a gifted patent attorney with his own boutique D.C. law firm and practice, was in another room in his mind when he realized he was close to missing the next Orange Line train. Metro trains ran often, especially from Metro Center, so he did not feel the need to run. Something told him, however, to pick up the pace, and he followed that inclination.

     That is when it happened.