******Doug,I'm in therapy. Not surprising, considering what happened, but a littledifferent than what I thought it would be. My only idea of what went...onat this kind of place came out of the movie "One flew over the cuckcoo'snest." But its a lot better than that, trust me. The lady I'm seeingseems to actually listen, and care, and God, how I've needed that thelast while. Maybe there's hope after all.Your bud,Don.*****Doug;My stitches came out today. Well, most of em, anyway. I'm going to. I was already off the force and working undercover for my Uncle Joe hitting the streets for background info on the crime scene and looking for the all important “motive” that usually solved most murder cases unless you had the benefit of eye-witnesses that were not too scared to open their mouths. The so-called general public was notorious for suddenly becoming “D and D” (deaf and dumb) as soon as the cops showed up to get their statements. In most of their minds, at least the street-smart. I was going to send it to message, but I noticed that it was from the boss. “Shit.” I tried to calm myself, as I answered my phone. “Come to my office now.” My boss’s voice sounded hard and angry. “Oh Fuck!” I thought, as I hung up the phone. “He’s noticed that I haven’t been getting my work done. Shit! I’ve been so distracted by the notes that my head hasn’t been at work. I’m going to get a warning for this, I know it.” I made my way shakily to my boss, Mark Anderson’s office. I pulled at. The other guy had been much closer to Stephen's own age. Jason was twenty three and had hurt his hand too but he'd simply burned himself repairing a car engine. He'd kept Stephen company for almost the full day before going home just after the evening meal. They had enough in common to keep each other company by talking about gaming, movies, music and a lot of other stuff too. Stephen kind of felt like he'd rather be alone than have an old guy again. He felt horrible for thinking that but for.