Jim's Blog

And some months after that recital with the Dr and his mother, Marcus’ hands of flesh, so pliant when over the keys of the piano, those hands which have never touched Angel, he thought to himself with no little irony,

Indeed, Marcus could not remember ever playing Rachmaninoff so…perfectly. Eerily, his mother would remark that it was like listening to another pianist entirely. Begrudgingly, he would have to agree. It were as though someone else were playing. And, now, there

Crystal usually spends most of her time exchanging tidbits with the potential clients over home-made cookies in the kitchen. Subtly, the feature of arguably the most important room in the house would be shown off. The potential-client’s responses would be

It was the crisis-mode of self preservation. But, what ever fight-or-flight there would have been was already long gone, down the length of the State Road, or, in the case of the car Marcus actually collided with, a burning husk