Jimi awoke, moving only her eyes. It was something she learned from Lonny.  He called it pulling together the threads of your life before you start moving around.  It’s a focusing thing. She reviewed what she could do this day to make her dreams come true.  Life is more manageableRead More →

I slip into the confessional booth and sit down on the pale green cushion. It’s a peaceful place redolent of oiled wood, clean old ladies, and thousands of years of tradition. On my right, where the outline of a priest will appear, is a beautiful screen of elaborately carved woodenRead More →

Neville Schroeder was a fireplug. He stood barely five feet tall, red, shabby, and pedestrian. Professor Connelly towered over him, a giant oak tree of a man with a silk paneled vest, tweed coat and tie, expensive glasses, and a neatly trimmed beard.Read More →