For the next hour, I gave him full details of what had happened - how, when and why. He mostly listened, interjecting a question every now and then."...ou can't keep her in that room forever. Some day you have to let her go, then what?"You have the outlook of a harried western civilization citizen. Here, we take the long view of, what will happen will happen, and who cares until it does?" I sucked in a piece of ice. The pitcher was empty and I didn't want to refill it or we would be singing. “What can I get for ya?” he asked with a nearly toothless smile. “What’s the strongest thing you got?” I asked having a seat on the stool. “Whiskey,” the bartender replied. “That’ll do” I said. He poured me a glass and I paid him (I’ll let your imagination fill in where I got the money from). “So stayin’ for the show?” he asked with a smile. “What show?” I asked. “Oh well we get a couple of acts in to perform every hour. But when we can’t get an act; Bridget usually sings for us” he said. “She. More

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