Then he tells me to relax, that a lot of guys have a "type" and that it's usually a lot like their mom. Then he goes on talking about how great my mom...s breasts are, only he keeps calling them tits and I can't stand it. I tell him to just shut up and he's like, "you have to admit they're fucking awesome" and I'm like "no I don't." Anyway, that was the end of that conversation. We turned off the computer and went to bed. I'm guessing around 2 hours later, my uncle John starts banging on my door. Without Maggie, he knew that he was only living so that he could die himself one day. It just hadn’t worked out well for him. If he could have imagined such a thing, that he’d be widowed one day, well he’d probably have guessed that it would happen by the time he was seventy-five or eighty. But he was forty-eight. He slurped his coffee and stood up to go the bathroom. It might have been his dark thoughts, but he looked at the mirror in passing. His hair and his goatee had turned white since. More

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