”“A cold case?”“Well,” he continued, oozing charm and a bit of authority, “I like to keep my hand in, if you know what I mean. No need for...anyone else to know that though.”“Yes, sir, I’ll do it right away.”“Good, good,” he said. “Call my cell when you have something.”He turned and left the room.Marci looked up as the door closed and Harrison would have been shocked by the change in her demeanor.“Fucking asshole,” she muttered to herself. But she quickly got to the work of pulling off prints and. It wasn't a memory, but in some ways it felt as if it had to be one.Like as if it had to have happened. But in the dream I was Mary. And shewas twenty-three. At that time we were living together, but we hadn'tyet become engaged. As I looked down I saw her chest and I saw her legs.I looked at my hands and they were Mary's hands, and in the mirror I sawher face. Yet I was just the passenger, and I did not control her body.It was a surreal experience.The actual me, Bernard, wasn't there. I was. More

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