The air was foul most days, and the homicidal drivers were something I’d never accept as normal. At least partially compensating for all I hated abo...t city life were the night life and the women. I developed a pattern: work my shitty part-time job and study my ass off during the week, then party hard all weekend.While I wasn’t a huge guy by any means, growing up on a farm, athletics, and the Army had kept me hard as nails and quick as a ferret. I wasn’t immensely handsome, but the deep scar on. You could even still see on the wall the spot when the old 4-prong connector had been mounted, before the phone company had converted everything a few years before. Next to the phone was a cheap orange plastic ashtray that someone had picked up at Expo '67, full of the white-tipped cigarette butts from the habit my Mom wouldn't kick for another year or two.Should I answer the phone? I hesitated, then laughed at myself. Why not? Since when was talking on the phone in a dream ever a. More

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