That night I dreamed about Ruth. I had just built a bookshelf for my den, and spent most of the evening organizing my books. Steinbeck. Salinger. No, ...alinger comes before. Tartt. Hemingway. Some obscure books on Taoism. At first I dreamed about pages. The letters blurred, forming a braille. Braille swirls. Then the designs flew off the pages. When they hit the air, they became suspended, lightly floated in front of my face. I pushed them back with my hand. They caught, and I pushed harder. . Later when my wife came to me at the bar i told her what Isabelle told me and with a smile she says that Ettiene was feeling her up and told her she is hot and that he would like to fuck her i looked at her smiling she doesn't know how i will react to someone approaching her because she knows i will fuck them up i love fighting and all my friends know i can handle all of them i look her in the eyes and say whel babe it is all up to you aslong as u cool with it so am i as long as we both agree. More

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