There on his recently deceased wife’s side was that which he hunted. The .45 automatic lay there, the magazine removed, and the one round meant for...him that night rested atop of a piece of paper. Slowly, he walked to the side of the bed, and then sank to his knees as a silent tear trailed down his cheek. The paper was one he had buried with his wife just that morning. He put the paper in her hands, as they lay crossed over her heart, on it, a poem he found from an unknown author. I Miss You I. I do hope so! The problem is whatto select from the hundred or so that make the story. They are so goodthat it is a pity to have to choose so few, should I add a third? No.That will only lead to the need for more.I'll just stick to the two, though I realise that the story can be readbackwards or forwards from the chosen two. To keep it simple, I'lldescribe in their correct order. The first is really very simple. Just a naked man sandwiched between twoelegantly dressed women. One lady, on the. More

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