” He was white faced. Then he laughed, and shook his head. “You know what? I gave away 200 bucks. They weren’t worth 200 000 euros to me earlier...this afternoon.”“That’s ... What?” Frieda frowned.“OK, so you know that these are--”“We’re not certain.” She shook her head. “They could be from the set the Carres are looking for. The chance is good but not certain. I couldn’t let you sell them to Val without telling you though. Dad would’ve been disappointed ... At least in one of us.”“Well then.” He. Her? Our? Story in poetical prose of rhythmic stanzas that will curl a girl's toes. No rings she donned, “I’m a free woman” her song, As she crossed her long shapely legs, And looked at me impishly one table away, I safely went back to my book and read. I felt young eyes staring at me, With self proclaimed liberty, The phantom raising a glass of wine, To make a toast only it can find, So her eyes burned in me. Like an itch you can not scratch, At least not publicly, Not wishing to look but. More

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