"Thanks for the compliment." So now that we knew that we're a little freaky, what now?" Well first, I have to go back and resume my life." No, I mean,...is there anything you want us to do, maybe next time we meet." Oooh, let me think." She pondered for a moment. "I have people I know that would like this. I'm thinking of a bi-nurse and a bi-intern...maybe I could ask them to join us. Or maybe you can just fuck me again. I don't know what my whim is yet. I'll have to think about it." Maybe we. She had picked the children up from school early. Explained what had happened. How did anyone explain such a thing? And glued to the television they had waited together for John to come home. If occasionally Jane still caressed that vial in her pocket that was understandable. But he had not come home that night. Or any other night. John Doe was one of two-thousand, six hundred and six people that died that morning in the World Trade Center towers. Over the days and weeks to come dozens of. More

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