I guess that was understandable.I wanted to find out his name at least, so I'd have something better than motherfucker to call him. I didn't get time ...o get a word out though because the begging started right up as soon as we were close enough to hear it yelling. Myself, I thought its attitude adjustment was just in time. That didn't keep me from enjoying his pissing and moaning about the pain."You can save your breath dipshit. I don't give a damn how bad you hurt. I was thinking of applying. The man was tall and slender, early-thirties, dark-haired. He looked at me from head to toe. I stirred self-consciously."It seems that you need help," he said."Yes," I answered.He stepped back and asked me in."What happened?" he questioned as I hobbled in.I lied back in the armchair he offered me and started to recount my misadventures, starting from the moment when the tire exploded. He listened attentively, his eye fixed on mine. I finished my story and looked sadly at my injured limb."Let me. More

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