The cold, low winter sun falls red upon the stair. It’s like this every afternoon, late, when I’m alone. Before the sky turns black I think of you and me. My eyes move toward the room we shared. You kissed him there beneath the stair, before ascending to our room. I turn away. Through the window, I see the swing we played on. Ropes tattered in the winter air. The seat broken, shattered like our love. By you lovers footsteps on the stair.
Abort! Abort! The tide was out; humidity settled wet and heavy over Silvio Caro. The Asp, a cigarette boat carved from a solid billet of titanium, lay in repose slightly below the level of the dock, water rising and falling much like the danger punctuating the war between the Government and the Cause. TCO, who has imbedded in his subconscious the knowledge to move the Mind to a more hospitable universe, must leave his bucolic Bucks County, PA farm to travel to key West and Cu