He ordered a chef salad, once again reminded that his mother used to refer to salads as roughage. He had discovered that she was wrong, but the term h...d been planted in his mind as a reference to salads. His mind slid back to the task at hand.Well, he had tried the apartment with no luck. Until he figured out the deadbolt system that was used, it wouldn’t be of much use going back there. There was the office where she was said to do most of her writing. He would have to wait until later this. Such is the essence of all creation. These are the rules. The shifting from one song to another brought him to the present smoothly, the memory brought both pain and acceptance. A strange mixture to cause peace. Back to the purpose, he demanded himself. He was to write a letter to Her. So far from him, three hours drive was an eternity and a breath to lovers. He needed her and wanted her to understand. So he writes, ‘Dear xxxxx..’ No, not correct, he rewrites. ‘Dear xxxxxxx, Our time together. More

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