Peridot Carrington muses at a fireside somewhere in the world. He palms a tea cup, moving it about from hand to hand. ”The old papu, retired?” Peri had suspected that his family friend would be calling it quits. He lasted far longer than he had suspected. The playwright speaks to nobody in particular, ”He was like the grandfather I never had. I am a mutt, but he gave me culture, affirmation in this city. There was a reason that baba found this man a friend and I a family member. Without his guidance, I do not know how surefooted I would have felt during my hay-day. A tempering, controlled fla