"I shouldn't be reading," she muttered. "I have to work."Placing the book on her desk, she looked at the laptop in front of her; lid open, screensaver...patterns zig-zagging across its face. She jiggled her finger on the tracker pad, watching the screen wake up, revealing neat rows of words. Positioning her hands over the keyboard, she willed herself to type.Nothing happened. Her hands simply hovered, never touching the keys. Lucy, slumping, blew air through her teeth. She'd picked up the book. I know, because he told me that it did. I feel good when I help other people too.How do I get so many friends? It isn't all one way. I help people out, and they remember me, and help me out back. One lady, I tripped the punk who had just snatched her purse, and it went flying. I got to it first, and just then a cop drove by, and he faded. I took it back to her, and told her I was Mike, and I lived on the street. She told me her name, and where she worked, and I had another friend.Another time,. More

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