Walking into the living room I definitely had an extra spring in my step. Walking up to Bill I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek. �...�Let’s go.’ Bill had already called down for a shuttle ride so we only had to wait about a minute before the cart arrived to take us back to Bill’s car. The drive to town was short and we spent the morning wondering through the shops, art galleries and the historical museum. All the while Bill and I talked about the future and what each of us was. Is this all a cruel dream? Is all this happening in my head alone? Am I going crazy? Have I already gone crazy? Was my dear wife sexually abused by a black man or was it merely my imagination gone wild? And did she enjoy it? Or is that imagined as well? Is it some cruel hoax being played on me? Or am I the one doing the playing?Ken shook his head and tried to make some sense of all that had happened. The more he thought, the more inconsistencies seemed to arise. The more threads seemed to come. More

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