Had heseen the future? No. He was a storyteller, adept at spinning tales amusing,horrific, or passionate as required. In fact He made His living at it...as anaccomplished writer. He?d even written a story about her after they?d parted;one that she was unsure how to react to. He had seemed so willing to let hergo, to give her the freedom she needed. Was it a sign of some obsession? Or a tribute? She?d realized it was the latter. He was amongthe few who realized that loving someone sometimes means. A couple of days ago, my mother called. ‘Robbie?’ she said loudly into the phone as if I was standing yards from the receiver. ‘Robbie? You there?’ ‘Yeah, Ma, yeah,’ I answered, pulling the earpiece back, ‘I’m here, but I’m at work and can’t talk long.’ ‘Robbie you gotta speak up. You know my hearing is going.’ She said. ‘Sorry, Ma,’ I said, a little louder. ‘How are you?’ ‘Well, you know I’d be much better if you called once in a while.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Your brother showed me how to get the. More

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