If you can do what you want to do than I should be able to do the same and when you use that name, I want to throw something, so I did. I’m thinking... about ordering some small granite pieces. Something tasteful that will coordinate with the room. I can stack them right next to the desk and when you annoy me, I can throw one. I’ll make sure the corners aren’t sharp. At least not too sharp.’ ‘Now what’s wrong? Why are you in such a bad mood?’ ‘Actually, I’m in an extraordinarily good mood,’. He was magnificent as he stood there, all 6’6′ of him. His curly red hair close cropped in military style, his blue eyes shining, and his huge hand holding hers. A smile crossed her lips as she saw herself standing next to him on that glorious June day in 1969 when she and Alex united in matrimony in front of that old Altar rail and she became Mrs. Madelyn Fitzgerald Foster. She was tall, standing almost 5’11’ in stocking feet but standing next to him even in her 2′ heels she had a hard time. ..........." he stood there silently waiting till i finished sobbing,my mouth dry,from the discarded rag.i stared at him hating him i so wanted out of here ,fuck him i was going to report both of them.i looked him in the eye never having hated somebody so much in my life,then i lowered my head and whispered "please sir can you help me prepare for my master".he laughed as he kicked the door shut in my face,i heard his footsteps as he left the room,i started to sob again.the light dazzled me yet. No recourse. Nothing. She was barren, as she always was. Empty. Alone. What if he was it for her? What if no one else would ever love her the same, no one else cared if she starved to death on the streets of the ghetto? Or even whether or not she ever smiled again? He did. If she wasn’t sure of anything else, she knew that. But the knowledge was too overwhelming to process fully. “You’re asking too much right now,” she whispered. “Ask me when I’m sober. When you have a chance of getting all.