He was grinning widely and somewhat insanely, and his teeth looked like a row of Corn-nuts. He was wearing an ancient, rotted pair of Nikes. Before-th...-Fall Nikes. Jeezus. Clipper hadn’t seen Nikes in fifteen years.Clipper saw all that in an instant. But that was not what really scared him. What really scared him was the Russian-made assault rifle in the man’s hands. An AK47. Sweet jeezus, he thought, an AK. He’d actually owned on of those, back somewhere in the mists of time. Where did this. Chapter 3 – Outcome Room service at the Oxford was ready for our favorites. Sophia and I sat quietly in our robes at the little table by the window, looking down on the activity on 17th Street, and got our fingers sticky with the jam from our English muffins. After we had indulged in the inevitable laughing and then the licking of each other’s fingers, we wiped them on the white linen serviettes and she poured coffee for both of us. Cream that I poured out swirled mysteriously through the hot. More

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