“I look forward to our next appointment.” she smiled, showing him into the entrance hall, the reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall a hauntin... reminder of the age divide. They could have easily been taken for mother and son. “You have my telephone number,” she confirmed, opening the front door. “I’ll call you in about four weeks to arrange another meeting,” he said, glancing at the photograph on the table, the melodic chimes from the grandfather clock interrupting the question waiting. " My lips kept moving but no sound was coming out.I'm a we'll-spoken, articulate person, but I don't handle confrontation well. My thoughts sort of freeze up on me sometimes, like some of those chat boxes on the internet.He gestured slightly with the cigar at the yellow legal pad in my lap, "Write these down. Juices, we already said that one. And add 'dancing.'" Dancing," I mumbled as I wrote."No more 'dancing eyes,' or 'our tongues danced together this and that' shit."Sounds like a fucking. More

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