His eyes were closed and not moving. ‘I still love you buddy,’ he whispered to his dead son. Just as he was moving away, he heard a faint sound. ...��Light,’ Josh moaned. ‘What buddy, what did you say,’ Brian implored, moving against the bars of the crib, ever hopeful. No answer came. Light? Brian wondered what his son was talking about. He shrugged it off as the utterance of a three year old. Matt’s door was closed and it seemed like an impossible obstacle for Brian to overcome. His hand shook. She was terribly prissy and dull which is unusual in this profession.“Faye, why are you so juvenile? Can’t you ever behave?” Well, no actually. I mean, isn’t acting simply juvenile. Oh, I know the luvvies will tell you it’s serious and blah blah but it’s kids, dressing up and making asses of themselves for, sometimes anyway, money. Marvellous. Portia didn’t even drink, for Christ’s sake. She was always word perfect (same here but I am just blessed with that kind of memory whereas she had to. More

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