"No," you think to yourself. "Not here."You go back to watching the clock. Another minute has gone. You let out a long sigh. Your phone vibrates. "Who...could it be," you think to yourself. You lift your phone from the desk and the display lights up revealing a message. "Its from him." You start to feel a buzzing sensation in your clit. You open the message and go wide-eyed. "I'm on my way, see you in 10 minutes X." You check the time. You will be going on break as I arrive. You grin and the. ’ ‘You drink it often?’ ‘Every evening since ….’ Grief swept across her face like tumbleweeds on the plains of Texas. ‘Every evening since my brother died.’ ‘Peter Schmidt?’ ‘Yes. How d-did … wait. Now I remember you. You are Mr. Gafferson, the man who was there the night Peter was killed.’ With the lamps in her brain finally switched on, her face performed a three-act play: the poker game, Moe’s car, Mona’s house. ‘I was bleeding. It hurt so badly. Another man carried me out. We were in a car,. More

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