Time to cook. **** Emma agreed to cook. He didn’t mind. He was a good cook, but was liable to be a little more utilitarian, using food as an energy...source rather than something that was to be enjoyed and savored. Like her. Fuck off, mate. As soon as I can get her to sleep, you’re gone. They shut the door behind them. He dropped the case on the floor and she put the groceries from Mrs. Chan on the kitchen bench. It felt good to be back. He needed to think and plan. He wanted to hurt them. Emma. They all looked at Tom, the ringleader, and realizing he had been made, he turned and fled out the door, the magazine hitting him in the head before it swung closed. The bartender was helping Eric up, telling him loudly he and all his friends were barred permanently, and not to ever come back. Ghost hadn’t even stopped, calmly walking through the door and into the night. I glanced down and saw the magazine, and picked it up. The Smithsonian, a little highbrow for this crowd. ………………………………………….. More

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