It’s romantic and soul-devouring stuff. Or at least, it must be…it has to be. It’s all I believe in anymore. Aside from the life-changing and ...eart-crushing power of it, though, I want the small things that go along with giving your soul to another person. I want to go to sleep with somebody beside me who won’t be gone in the morning. I want to share cigarettes and coffee, watch old movies and hold hands in parks. I want somebody to touch my cheek and tell me they love me, and mean it with. I didn’t want anybody to realise there was a problem between us. He never mentioned our disastrous affair, and neither did I ...to anybody. It was a few weeks later Cam’s program was moving from the development into live testing stage of his project. This was keeping me very busy as constant amendments were required to rewrite some of his work, much of it late at night. This got my mind off my other problem with Jake who often broke down in the office. Jakes problem had become common gossip.. I don’t know what made me want to open the bottom drawer. I took a small bundle of letters downstairs, intending to explore their contents while I ate some of Ms. Kindle’s chicken. But the letters would have to wait. There were phone calls to make, and email to answer. There was a message from Ms. Dickens with a newspaper article attached. I told everyone the same thing, we were making good progress, but there was still a lot to do. When I went to bed, the letters were sitting on the kitchen. If you don't want it, sign the title, and I'll have it towed to the county impound. They will auction it off. I will warn you Spade, this is a straight up deal. Don't try to fuck with me or I'll put a nice neat hole where your belly button is." "Well, boss lady, when do you want me to start? You can draw me a picture, stay out of the way, and I will work till you are satisfied for twenty bucks an hour plus meals and room. Now do we have a deal or not?" Nikkie coughs and clears her throat,.
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