They probably never met, Chip Callaway and Gerta Hedquist. Never nodded or smiled or even made eye contact. They had, after all, no mutual friends, no shared interests.
He was 20, an exceptional college student, on the school tennis team, standing on the brink of his life.
She was 92, stiffening with advanced arthritis, planning another trip to her native Sweden, undoubtedly the last given her growing physical limitations.
They had nothing in common at all.
Except, as they settled into their Greyhound bus seats, heading south under gray and threatening skies, they were about to die together.
Read Full Article »