Dobbin had plans for quieter celebrations. And so, here he was, all set to weave a story out of the frightening yet fantastic dream from half an hour ...ack.“Shit!” In his hurry, he had left his bag in the room. No pen, no paper.From his spot in one corner of the library, he scanned the floor for some helping, human presence. And sure he found one in Ms. Rita, the assistant librarian. What was she doing in the library, at this hour on Christmas Eve, and that too in grey pyjamas and a bright-red. That’s why I didn’t sell this thing to those developer bastards. All that money I DIDN’T make? Seein’ that little redhead in that Stearman, I’m paid. Sitting in that thing, back in the air. Pure dee premium.”“Thought you’d get a kick out of it,” I said.“More ‘n a kick, son. Daughter ‘n’ her husband had a fit. Ain’t none of their business, though, not as long as I’m alive and sane.” His eyes narrowed. “They’d be fillin’ in those ponds, run that Saucier boy off. Buildin’ crappy houses. This...”. More

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