?Hey, uh, Aaron, wasn’t it,? I greeted him, as if fishing for the name that I remembered perfectly well. ?Glad you could stop by. You interested in ...hat ‘board?? ?Yeah, dude,? he replied with a grin. ?I’m always bustin’ my boards at the park. And the Powell is a bitchin’ deck.? I invited him in, closing the door behind us. ?Come into the kitchen. I think the board is in the garage. Wanna beer?? I offered. ?Yeah, sweet,? he answered, trying to act casual at the offer. He goes flying off at the handle so easily, this time; it was because I did not make the coffee strong enough for him. Good grief, next time he’ll complain it’s too strong, there is no pleasing that man. I know his behavior is due to his mood disorder, and I am trying to ignore it, and work through it, but for some reason, I could not. He left an hour ago, to go to his favorite pub, and have a few drinks with his buddies. I am angry, bored, and horny as hell. I threw my hands up in the air,. More

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