Every little bit he would touch, brush, or just breathe on some part of my skull and it hurt like he touched a live blowtorch against me.The second ti...e I twitched from his touch he apologized, and said, "I was positive your bullet wound was fatal, Kevin. Your blood pressure was pretty much non-existent, and even though the bullet did not enter your brain, it cracked you skull, split the lining around your brain, did damage to the area that holds your memories, and that shattering shock wave. It was still early; the sun had been up for barely an hour and breakfast fires would still be alight.Horses and carts aplenty populated the streets, sometimes knocking down an unwary pedestrian. Most times the drivers offered nothing in the way of apology, as if it were simply a matter of course. Shopkeepers cried their wares loudly beneath their awnings while smiths, wheelwrights and other craftsmen and women further added to the cacophony with the ring of metal on metal or the knocking of. More

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