As long as I don't try to do anything to that causes me to think too strenuously, like read a paper or a book, the world is mine. For a few more hours...at least. Till the alarm clock drags back to the cruel reality of the present.That's where I was now. At least it felt like it. I was a bit tired. Tired enough to want to keep sleeping. But also awake enough where my mind was thinking just a little. But for some reason, I couldn't dream. Usually it's easy. The hard part is trying to reach this. I checked my phone machine: no messages. Shit. She could at least call me up to compliment me.By five, I was in my car and on the way to Stoney’s. Mrs. Santucci greeted me at the door. She was about 55, a sweet old motherly kind of broad. I headed to the rec room downstairs where Stoney and I watched some t.v. and drank some beer. I was famished, so after about an hour I headed upstairs. Mrs. S. was finishing up the spaghetti sauce in the kitchen.“Hey, Mrs. S.” I said.. More

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