"My God, what is the beautiful smell?" she asked.Ron turned around, "I thought that you might like fresh trout for breakfast this morning."Ron explain...d how he had caught the fish and how he had made a gravy out of an MRE. Brenda didn't believe that he had caught a fish with his hands and questioned him about it while they ate. Brenda felt that this was the best fish she had ever eaten and commended Ron on his cooking several times. Both of them ate their fill and there were no leftovers. After. Not yet. Ride the plateau. Earn it.She’d secreted her lounge chair and milk-crate table in the corner, next to the hulking HVAC unit. Her half-smoked joint issued a wispy line of smoke from the ashtray on the crate, hypnotizing her as she played with her pussy lips, keeping the fires banked. Manhattan burned on the streets below.Similar blazes dotted the Brooklyn side of the river.Screams, car crashes, gunshots brayed for her attention. Her nipples hardened in the night breeze. She felt. More

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