Hugs.. and well, have fun.I know that many of you have, I should not say complained but at leastacknowledged that my writing style is well disjointed.... Even a bit hardto follow, and I will tell you the truth.... your right, it is. Butoh, my word, so is my life right now, upside down and without a joint(not that kind) to hold it together. But here I am ... But let's moveon, as I am sure if you are reading this ... You're saying toyourself... What happens next? I am still shaking my head. "Any time I can get Harry to help with the dishes, it's an occasion. Don't rob me of the chance." Well, if you're sure..." Lynn said hesitantly, wanting above all else to escape the suffocating closeness of the small cabin."Lynn, if I'm not sure, my wife is," Harry chuckled, and, indicating the dirty dishes strewn across the table, said, "We'll take care of this mess. You go on topside, the night breeze will perk you right up."Lynn rose, and eased her slim, sinuous hips along the narrow space. I know that now. If I’d known that then…. Next morning over coffee, he muttered from under his ruffled mane, “Fucking nice writing you do.”I knew he was no pushover in the intellect department and I thanked him appropriately for his fine compliment.“Are you into all that, or is it more fantasy?” he asked. Then he waited a tick before adding, “I do a little writing of a different kind. I know some is real, some is not. Some desire is only for fantasy, some for real.”It was a pleasure talking. The private plane their husband brothers piloted, crashed somewhere in Saudi Arabia in the mid 1990's. They said a sandstorm was to blame. Barb died a few months after Melissa. She knew how much love we shared for exotic vehicles and she left me her all of her cars, the rest of her estate was divided among her neices and nephews. After losing both Melissa and Barb in the same year, I slipped into a deep depression that lasted over a year. For quiet some time, I looked more like a recluse than a.