The echoes bounced.After crawling for a few good hours, he heard voices. The sounds became stronger. He hoped these voices came not from his own mind....He heard telephones ringing, the manhandling of papers, the snapping of typewriters. He had two options for the person responsible: exile or death. Exhilaration and anger pushed him. The voices became definite: men and women colliding into work. He sat on a cold, damp floor. His legs touched the other wall.He yelled out. The voices paused. He. Lydia returned from douching herself in the shower. She cooed, ‘We did rather well and in fact I thought it was heavenly.’ But Alan was asleep. ‘We just missed a perfect dual explosive finish but we’ll work on that,’ she said, flopping down to face away from him, wondering why she was in such a depressing hole rather than excitedly reuniting with her former school friends in Houston. She sighed and thought but life would appear brighter once she was back into working with clay. In fact she was. More

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