He'd just sounded like he wanted to be understood."Well, I am sorry," I said. "About leaving a mess."He waved his hand at me, his back still to me."No... sorry about fucking in your bar though," I added.He turned around and looked at me, his eyes squinting slightly, and then laughed. His laugh came out as a low burst that I could almost feel."Son of a bitch," he said. "I wouldn't be either if I was you."I finished my beer and set it down. He poured another."If you put it on the internet make sure. Not that it was difficult; but by the time I had reached our office area, my leg was starting to feel a little sore. I guess the walk up and down the stairs and over the uneven ground leading from the car park was still a bit of a stretch for me. I had half an hour to sit at my desk, to relax and go over the agenda for the meeting. The others – David, Claude and particularly Michelle – were very pleased to see me back, and had lots of questions about my recovery, the shooting, and whether I had. More

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