. her brow furrowed. Didn't that mean... ?She grinned, imagining catching the dork red-handed. What was the phrase she was looking for, though? Was it...French? Maybe it was in flagrante delicto after all. Sighing, she shrugged, thinking she'd write a paper on the subject the coming school year. The difference between...She drifted off to sleep.It was ten after four. What had awakened her, she wondered? Lifting her head, she gazed sleepily around the bedroom; spotting Bruno curled up at her. Tones change, details change, endings change—no remix is note-perfect. Sometimes things change for the worse; first as tragedy, then as farce, as the saying goes. Other times things change for the better as if, like with so many other things in life, fate needs a few tries to get things right. And perhaps one thing sets up another, months or years down the road.This story began twenty years ago, in a little student flat by the banks of the river. In those days, a young student walked each day. More

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