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<\/p>\n– 06:49 am Atlantic Time, Wednesday, June 25th, 2025 – +19\u02daC \/+67\u02daF & Sunny in our little corner of New Brunswick, Canada –<\/p>\n
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{{{ – Well, Dangit – I just spent over an hour looking for the above Screen Shot \/ Graphic – and WordPress wouldn’t let me add a caption –\u00a0 { This is a screenshot of what happened when our connection to the Cloud that my ‘Interactive 3D Role playing world’ resided on or in —> Crashed –\u00a0 Those are pieces of ‘landscape’ that were part of this area before they ran away and, um, “Ya really can’t<\/span> get there from here …” or – ya couldn’t until we fixed it with our magic world editing ‘super glue’ talents etc. } The screen shot should be titled “Broken World” — Jim }}}<\/p>\n — The official Novel begins below the imaginary line I probably better make visible here, ya think?<\/p>\n =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n { This is set in a parallel universe \u2013 where the time line was more than slightly different from the one where you most likely grew up – }<\/i><\/p>\n Prelude:<\/b><\/i><\/span><\/p>\n — Mark stepped onto his back deck and yawned \u2013 He smelled coffee brewing through the screened kitchen window. Cool breezes thrilled his face as the sun warmed his arms. He heard something and turned to see a huge owl land on the bench at the edge of the deck and saw a young man appear, standing in his back yard. The young man asked, \u201cIs this land, ‘Turtle Island’? Or ‘North America’? – Are your countries, ‘Canada, The United States, and Mexico’? – or the ‘Turtle Island Confederacy’? Is this year – 1930 or 2025 A.D.? – Or ‘7799 Common Era’?\u201d<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n — He suddenly had the odd sensation that flames were shooting up through his upper torso \u2013 and especially up through his neck and head.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n — He sat up in his bed and gasped \u2013 looked around and slowly realized he’d been dreaming.<\/span><\/p>\n — He sighed and let himself fall back down onto the extraordinarily comfortable bed with its just as extraordinarily comfortable pillows and smiled at the huge print of a photo taken by a deep space telescope \u2013 the print that had been ‘decoupaged’ against the ‘ceiling’ of the custom made ‘Cube Bed’ with its ‘top of the line stereo system, surround sound { Bose } speakers – and the three flat panel television screens that hung on an angle at the ‘foot’ of the cube { with its light blocking curtains, king sized mattress and ‘decadent’ ‘electric blue’ satin sheets. } He still couldn’t actually believe this bed, or the bedroom, or the house – was ‘his’.<\/span><\/p>\n — He shuddered at the idea that just a few months earlier he would have looked at anybody who owned a bed like as being ridiculously ostentatious. But the lawyer who’d found him and explained that his uncle had left him this not so humble house and property \u2013 PLUS an extravagant check \u2013 and explained: \u201cA large part of that was supposed to be a wedding present \u2013 when he couldn’t find you \u2013 and after he learned of your divorce \u2013 from your mother when she was sick in the hospice \u2013 he had me change his will to include this amount -\u201d the man pointed to a line on a printout of the section of Mark’s uncle’s will that pertained to him \u2013 ‘to Mark’ \u2013 He’d gone into shock reading that the wedding present was $25,000.oo US Dollars \u2013 and continued – \u201cHe’d come up with that figure before the housing bubble \u2013 thinking you’d want to use it as a down payment on a decent home for yourself and your \u2013 um \u2013 now ‘ex-wife’ \u2013 and he told me \u2013 off the record \u2013 to tell you that you should spend it on something extravagant for yourself and possibly your second wife if and when you choose to re-marry.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n — The check the lawyer had handed him was for three times that original amount.<\/span><\/p>\n — Mark had gone deeper into shock and listened through a fog as the lawyer went on to say \u2013 “No taxes are owed on this property or the fully paid for vehicles in your garage \u2013”<\/span><\/p>\n — There was a four wheel drive Japanese SUV that his uncle had ordered and told the lawyer on his death bed to transfer the ownership to Mark, and told his friend the lawyer to pay for everything \u2013 all taxes \u2013 all license fees \u2013 any\u00a0 possible the gift tax \u2013 and any amount of money associated with the transfer of any proof of ownership documents –<\/span><\/p>\n — Back then, Mark had stared blankly at the lawyer \u2013 who continued, \u201cHe knew your estranged father had forbidden you and your sisters and even your mother from having anything to do with him \u2013 Knew that your father had erroneously believed he was a homosexual -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — Mark had shuddered again, then nodded, \u201cMy father drank himself to death when he was out on parole for manslaughter after he ran his truck into a parade of Gay Pride demonstrators in Chicago -\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n — The lawyer had nodded, and looked ‘concerned’ Probably because Mark had told him that three times in the past half hour. <\/span><\/p>\n — Mark shivered, focused all his senses on the impossibly comfortable bedroom he’d just woke up in – Then he shuddered as the memories faded and he glanced at the clock on the near by dresser and yawned \u2013 He sighed, closed his eyes, and felt pretty sure he would have no trouble falling back to sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter One: Before The Split <\/b><\/i><\/span><\/p>\n — Mark Hendriks:<\/i> <\/span><\/p>\n — Half an hour after he’d awakened, startled by an unusually vivid dream \u2013 he sighed and dragged himself out of bed much earlier than he’d planned, walked to the ‘home weather station’ in one of the ‘Master Bedroom’s windows, yawned, shrugged \u2013 assured himself that it was an unusually warm Saturday morning in middle May, yawned again and stared blankly around the room until he walked into the ‘ensuite’ washroom in the house he’d inherited from an uncle he’d barely known. He yawned one more time and leaned on the marble counter around the twin sinks in the washroom he hadn’t been able to get used to in the two months since he’d moved in. <\/span><\/p>\n — A man in his middle twenties stared at him from the other side of the mirror behind the sink. Stared for several long seconds \u2013 almost like he couldn’t recognize the reflected human out there in the ‘Real World’ with its vivid impression of the opulent surroundings a few yards away, off to the human’s right side, the refection’s left – <\/span><\/p>\n — Everything had felt so foreign to Mark when he first moved into the house that looked like an unassuming ranch style house from the road and then looked like an upscale raised ranch with a wide and deep second story porch from the back. He shivered and wondered why he’d begun to feel so comfortable in the strange surroundings after what for him was a very short time. <\/span><\/p>\n — The tallish, thinnish man in the mirror almost looked like somebody he thought he might have guessed at a first glance could be a potential friend \u2013 if you discount the fact that he was nearly naked \u2013 And he looked healthier than the reflection he was used to \u2013 not exactly muscular \u2013 but he didn’t focus on what his ex-wife spent the last few months of their marriage pointing out as what she believed were glaring flaws. … Face it \u2013 she was looking for excuses to justify her – ‘roaming eyes’ – ?<\/span><\/p>\n — It usually took him several weeks \u2013 or a month or longer – in any new environment before he could easily fall asleep \u2013 More often than not he would lie in bed staring into comparative darkness with all his senses on high alert \u2013 ready to jump up and fight someone or something – or run to escape some real or imagined life threatening danger. Battle Fatigue? He’d been drafted and spent almost two years in comparative safety, unlike the thousands of his fellow draftees and enlisted men who spent their time out in the jungle – <\/span><\/p>\n — A young nurse, back in civilian life \u2013 the girl friend of a co-worker and friend he’d made in Boston – told him he probably had PTSD. – a diagnosis that was new in those days – and something the nurse wasn’t qualified to diagnose \u2013 something that maybe most doctors and psychologists believed was a ‘kinder and gentler’ name for ‘battle fatigue’ or ‘shell shock’? <\/span><\/p>\n — It could have been worse – another guy’s girl friend had sneered at him after he said he’d really enjoyed working nights on a special assignment that had expired. She’d sneered and said, \u201cYeah, Schizophrenics should work nights.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He’d laughed then and he smiled now \u2013 remembering how flustered she’d looked when he didn’t crumble under her verbal attack. <\/span><\/p>\n — Most of the people he’d met in the Boston area had been friendly, accepting, easy going \u2013 funny how a couple not so friendly people can leave a nasty impression of an unfamiliar city \u2013 or town \u2013 or whatever? <\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n — He sighed and looked around. <\/span><\/p>\n — This house was ‘nicer’ than any house he’d lived in \u2013 certainly nicer than any of the houses he’d grown up in \u2013 It looked like something from a ‘Better Homes’ magazine \u2013 He thought he should feel weird about feeling so comfortable here so quickly \u2013 It had looked like a show piece, sterile, homogenized – when he first saw it. Now it almost felt like the house really liked him.<\/span><\/p>\n — Mark yawned again, sighed and nodded. He vividly remembered walking around inside the house with the lawyer who’d read him the clause in his uncle’s will and handed him the keys. Mark nodded as he reminded himself that he really appreciated getting this house ‘free’ and clear’ after his divorce – { After my divorce? – No, really – that was Susan’s divorce. }<\/span><\/p>\n – Rough Sketch of Mark’s House –<\/p><\/div>\n { Mark’s House \u2013 Main Floor & ‘Multi-Car’ Garage \u2013 Above }<\/span><\/p>\n — Culture shock? <\/span><\/p>\n — He’d graduated high school maybe six months before the newspapers all went crazy describing students in several area high schools and even junior high schools buying marijuana from each other before and after the school’s doors opened and the final bell rang.<\/span><\/p>\n — ‘Underground FM radio stations “were a new ‘thing’-” back then and they were playing some very interesting music with very interesting lyrics – <\/span><\/p>\n — He was drafted and sent to South East Asia before he could start classes at a new community college \u2013 sent to a country that was basically stuck in the stone age. <\/span><\/p>\n — He’d heard about ‘hippies’ and ‘The Free Speech Movement’ and even done a report for his high school Civics class on Mario Savio and the movement he’d led in San Francisco \u2013 Mario tried to kick military recruiters off the university campus. Mark’s time in the military had left him with the impression that Mario Savio was assuredly right \u2013 and the military was hopelessly insane –<\/span><\/p>\n — He did not expect to be spit at and called a “baby killer” when he stepped off the plane in San Francisco \u2013 where he had to be ‘processed’ back into civilian life.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n — But in those two years, just under two years, actually \u2013 the country had gone from transistor radios to home computers, internet, and wireless ‘cell phones’ \u2013 and more…<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n — In his first civilian job he picked up on computer ‘technology’ { and practice } quickly and easily \u2013 and found himself promoted into a pretty good job with the company that the combat medic { – who was beside him when they were both spit at and called names in San Francisco – } talked him into applying for in Boston \u2013 where he progressed from filling in forms as the only guy in a room full of secretaries – { The secretaries who kept coming to him for advice on how to deal with computers instead of electric typewriters } \u2013 progressed to running the ‘Information Technology’ department of the company that supplied medical stuff, including computers \u2013 and computer software designed specifically for hospitals – To Hospitals, clinics and Medical Offices – { \u201cNot bad for a twenty one year old\u201d- }<\/span><\/p>\n — And then he was transferred back to Connecticut \u2013 to the town across the river from where he’d grown up.<\/span><\/p>\n — Back in ‘reality? { Out of his memory loop? } He took a long hot shower and stood at the sink again – sweating, dripping – He scowled at the completely fogged mirror and wiped a small circle at about the height of his face and then more like stared at the foggy reflection that stared back at him. He frowned and sneered at the memory of Susan complaining that he did not have ‘Rock Star’ looks. Then he shrugged, thought about the rock stars he’d seen on MTV – and wondered why he’d want to look like them. <\/span><\/p>\n — He dried himself and wrapped a towel around his waist and walked toward the bedroom.<\/span><\/p>\n — But he stopped in the ensuite’s doorway and turned around, felt his day old beard and shrugged –<\/span><\/p>\n — He was still sweating and the moisture in the washroom had fogged the mirror over the sink again – completely. <\/span><\/p>\n — He sighed, walked to the bathtub with its sliding glass shower door, reached inside and turned the shower on – ‘cool’ \u2013 and stepped back, and – yes \u2013 a couple short moments of that cool cascading water drove the fog away. He turned the shower off, stepped out into the room, onto the bathmat he didn’t like, but hadn’t replaced yet. And he still had to wipe the moisture from the mirror to see his face. A day’s growth of beard? Everyone told him it would itch like hell, but it didn’t – He shrugged.<\/span><\/p>\n — The phone rang.<\/span><\/p>\n — There was a wall phone in the bathroom \u2013 near the toilet.<\/span><\/p>\n — He almost didn’t answer it. – But that phone had “Caller I.D.” And the name, \u201cErica Fischer\u201d displayed above a phone number that must have been her cell phone number.<\/span><\/p>\n “Erica Fischer – A Photo from her University days – the one time a roommate talked her into attending a ‘Cosplay’ event -”\u00a0 { With a Fantasy Landscape Mountainous background painted on the wall behind her. }<\/span><\/p><\/div>\n — He tightened the towel around his very wet waist and scuffed his feet across the bath matt \u2013 stepped across the cool floor tiles { real tiles, not fakes? } and took the handset from the wall phone, \u201cHello?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cHello, Mark?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cErica?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cYes, it’s me \u2013 you recognize my voice?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He nodded, \u201cYeah \u2013 you probably have the most pleasant voice of anyone on our whole stupid team.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — She laughed, \u201cActually, I thought that described your voice -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cReally?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cYeah \u2013 I um \u2013 I’m glad you’re there \u2013 I followed that link \u2013 the one you gave me last Tuesday?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cThe Journal?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cYeah. Jenkens said it was just your run of the mill ‘Blog’- but \u2013 wow \u2013 it’s interesting.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cDid you use the password I gave you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — She laughed, \u201cYeah, it signed me in as Mrs. Mark Hendriks.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cJenkens doesn’t have a password. He only gets to see the stuff designed to bore morons to death.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — She laughed again, \u201cGood call -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cYeah \u2013 he’s so full of himself I wonder how anybody else can fit in the same room with him, even the freakin cavernous conference room where he holds court.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — She laughed again, \u201cYou saw through him that first day, didn’t you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — Mark nodded, \u201cYeah, I grew up surrounded by bullies and mean drunks \u2013 seeing through people is my best self-defence mechanism.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cI guess – but while I think of it \u2013 are you going to their party this afternoon?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cDo I really want to go to Jenkens’ little McMansion address on “Conspicuous Consumption Row” and pretend I can stand the jerk while he smiles and takes credit for everything everybody else did and brags about what a big fat bonus he’s getting?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cProbably not \u2013 but, like \u2013 I have to go, and I’d feel a lot better if you were there and I could hide behind you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — Mark sighed, \u201cOkay, you know I’m a sucker for any damsel in distress and you’re a good one.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cThank you \u2013 before I read any of the stuff in your Journal \u2013 I thought you were cold and aloof \u2013 like what everybody else thinks about you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cSorry \u2013 I opened up to too many jerks in my time – and pretending I’m cold and distant was one stupid way I thought I could protect myself from any future public humiliation -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cI’m the only one you gave that password to, right?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cWell, there used to be a Mrs Mark Hendriks but she wasn’t interested \u2013 I didn’t bring home any six figure salary while we were married so she tried to take me for everything she and her lawyer thought I was worth.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cYeah \u2013 you said you failed at trying to drink yourself to death when you thought you were a complete failure as a human being? – After she served you with the divorce papers?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He winced, nodded, \u201cYeah \u2013 guilty – I never claimed to shrug any traumatic experiences off.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He could almost see her smile, \u201cSounds like we’ve both been through that same wringer.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cAhh \u2013 no \u2013 I don’t want to believe that you’ve had to suffer through that kind of nonsense.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cOh yeah \u2013 I did. My knight in shining armour told me I wasn’t turning heads any longer and left me for an eighteen year old. I had a lawyer friend, so I got half the house, and half the income he expected to earn when my delightful ex had to sell the house. – But I didn’t call to cry on your shoulder \u2013 Your poetry \u2013 and those photographs \u2013 You’re really good -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He winced, \u201cThe Journal was something I started working on while I took the course on Computer programming, thinking, heck, something decent has to come out of my freakin indentured servitude to the daw-gone US Army \u2013 The previous ‘team’ I got mixed up with wanted to do something similar \u2013 and a perfect clone of Jenkens himself stole every line of code I showed him and kicked me off the team before they went public, saying I just wasn’t the kind of team player they needed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — She laughed again, \u201cSo you’re not giving Jenkens your best work?.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cOf course not \u2013 if you’re a company spy I probably just got myself fired again.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cI am no company spy, I kind of came to the same conclusion and added a bit of code to everything I gave him \u2013 wrote a back door so if he tries to steal my stuff and not even give me credit, I can bring it down and he’ll never know what hit him -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cWow \u2013 I thought about doing that when I saw my previous team’s work and recognized too much of it, but I came to the conclusion that what they’re doing with it is slightly more positive than what would happen to all those happy bloggers if I blew it up in their face.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cBut it looks like your version is a lot more user friendly \u2013 I’m pretty sure I figured out which team you were on \u2013 are they in the news lately for stealing private information about their users \u2013 selling that to their advertisers and surprising their subscribers with pop up ads for stuff they mentioned in their blogs?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cYup- In their ‘We promise this blog will be free forever with no advertising!’ blog.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cI’ve got an idea \u2013 Your Journal looks like it makes adding photographs and putting them anywhere in the blog that any user might want to place them \u2013 why don’t you offer your blog free and lure all those exploited bloggers away from their exploiter?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He grinned, \u201cYou really think it’s that good?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cHell yes,\u201d she felt like she grinned, \u201cThat’s something I’d like to get involved with.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He almost blurted \u2013 ‘You’re kidding -‘, but instead, \u201c-Um \u2013 everything’s on a computer in my basement \u2013 in a faraday cage \u2013 not connected to the internet \u2013 I have a portable hard drive that I copy all the changes onto and carry that upstairs and load it onto my other computer, plug it in, compile it – plug the updated version into the modem \u2013 and I almost felt like a certifiable genius when I figured out how to do that without deleting anybody’s content.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cI’d love to see what you’re doing there -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He shivered, he felt dizzy – \u201cPart of me is screaming \u2013 this sounds much too good to be true \u2013 if you’re a bad guy I’m in trouble -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — She laughed, \u201cI assure you, I am not a bad guy \u2013 If you haven’t noticed that I’m not a guy at all, you’re the only one.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He heard the unmistake-able sound of the kind of power equipment that gas stations and ‘Automobile Fix-it’ shops used to work on cars.<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cThey’re hitting on you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cConstantly \u2013 and Jenkens is the worst.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cI saw Jenken’s wife, she looks like last season’s trophy wife of the year.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He could almost feel Erica nodding in agreement.<\/span><\/p>\n — Then the power equipment drowned her next words out.<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cSorry \u2013 I didn’t hear that -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He imagined she blushed, \u201cYeah, I went out to pick up a few last minute things, and when I tried to leave the supermarket – my car wouldn’t start \u2013 I’m at the Triple-A Garage. – Oh hang on a second \u2013 here comes the mechanic-\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n — He heard her hand cover her phone’s ‘mouthpiece’ part.<\/span><\/p>\n — A few seconds later she sighed, \u201cBad news- They can’t fix my car this morning.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He nodded, \u201cNeed me to put on my ‘Rescue Ranger’ hat and come get you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cI can take a taxi -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cAfraid I’ll try to hit on you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cWell \u2013 kind of \u2013 I’ve learned to avoid any kind of \u2013 relationship? Especially with people I work with-\u201d she sighed – but then, \u201cWould you think I was too forward if I asked you to invite me over to get a look at the computer set up you have there?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He was stunned.<\/span><\/p>\n — After a minute or so of silence, she spoke up, \u201cI swear I am too honest for my own good, and I couldn’t steal anything from anyone I believe in -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cUh,-\u201d he shrugged, \u201cI kind of have to dry myself off, you caught me in the shower \u2013 um- I probably need to shave -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cIf you really want to go to all the trouble of coming here to pick my up \u2013 I could stand to see you with a couple days’ beard -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He nodded, \u201cWhere are you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — She told him. <\/span><\/p>\n — He reached back to the mirror and wrote the address in the fog that hadn’t completely evaporated.<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cOkay \u2013 I’ll be there as soon as I can-\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n — He dried himself in a hurry, brushed his teeth, used his deodorant, ran into the bedroom, got dressed, almost ran through the kitchen and down into the garage. Pressed the automatic garage door opener and jumped into his Blue Japanese ‘S.U.V.’ – started it up and backed out into the sunshine, pressed the buttons on the gadget that closed the garage door and locked it behind him. Then he backed down the driveway’s slight hill, and turned left as he backed into the very quiet street, shifted into \u201cD\u201d and hurried off down the road.<\/span><\/p>\n — This side road with its street sign lying on the ground again \u2013 ended at a numbered county road. He signalled \u2013 no cars were coming either way, but he signalled, then turned left and drove out onto the county road, ‘County Highway 16 \/ Old Indian Reservation Road’.<\/span><\/p>\n — It took him fifteen minutes to drive from the end of his driveway and pull to a stop in front of the Garage’s office .<\/span><\/p>\n — Erica was standing there – on the raised bit of concrete slab in front of the door to where attendants would come out from – and go back into – the office with its cash register – any time a customer pulled up to the gas pumps \u2013 or drove away after paying for their gas.<\/span><\/p>\n — She was kind of short { 5’3\u201d? } with blonde hair and ‘fine bones’? And she wasn’t dressed for a party \u2013 She was dressed in a blue-green loose fitting blouse with three quarter sleeves and grey { ‘pedal pusher’? } -three quarter length ‘slacks’ \u2013 and bargain store tennis shoes. Her blonde hair wasn’t exactly short \u2013 and almost looked like a 1950’s hair-do \u2013 that kind of flowed out around her face like waves on both sides and then curled outward just above her shoulders. She was probably ‘extraordinarily cute’ \u2013 somebody he might have guessed was so good looking she wouldn’t feel any need to be nice to anybody – someone he most likely would never even vaguely consider could be a friend. She looked like someone he would have believed might be part of the sorority at the University where he took his computer courses in Boston at \u2013 who walked around with pink sweat shirts printed with the quote that broadcast their attitude, \u201cYes \u2013 but not with you…\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He thought he remembered sensitive blue-grey eyes \u2013 but they were hidden behind sunglasses.<\/span><\/p>\n — As he stepped out of his S.U.V. – she smiled, and knelt down, picked up a red plastic milk crate \u2013 which contained a couple brown paper bags and stuff she probably did not want to leave in her unattended car, plus her purse.<\/span><\/p>\n — As he walked around his S.U.V. she looked more than slightly guilty – \u201cSorry, I didn’t expect to need to be rescued when I called you \u2013 I just wanted to pass the time while I waited for these guys to fix my car \u2013 the first guy said it didn’t look like anything major -\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n — He grimaced and nodded, \u201cI’m no longer familiar with all the garages around here \u2013 but the ones in Boston seemed to be less and less honest all the time \u2013 and one friend up there went all the way through Volkswagen Mechanics school, got a decent job at a dealership, and like, on his second week on the job – a woman came in with a brand new ‘rabbit’ and it was his turn, he opened the hood and saw her problem right off \u2013 a vacuum hose had come loose \u2013 his shift supervisor came over to him and said, ‘Whatcha got here?’<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201cHe responded, ‘Oh, it’s nothing \u2013 a vacuum hose, I already fixed it-‘<\/span><\/p>\n — \u201c– The Split –<\/em><\/span><\/h1>\n
“You wouldn’t believe what happened on this one fine spring day in May.”<\/span><\/h4>\n
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