"What kind of drugs?" They say she's got some kind of chemical imbalance. These are supposed to correct it." What kind of tests did they do?" I don't ...hink they did anything. She was upset the night we were brought into the hospital and they gave her something. The next few days she was in the hospital for observation and they said she needed to be on these drugs. She was diagnosed with post traumatic stress." God Damn it, of course she was stressed. She didn't know if her only child would live. We were hanging out listening to music, just bullshitting, drinking beers and smoking weed. About 1:30 in the morning we started to get drowsy. I didn't really want to see him drive home, we were loopy enough to be an issue if a cop pulled him over. I suggested he crash on the floor. My bed was a pull out couch in the living room, so we were in the same room. I went and got some extra bedding gave it to him and then pulled my bed out and thought I was going to sleep.Both of us were kind of. So, what can I do you for?"Jim eyed me from across his desk. "How much do you know about the neurological processing units?"I shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't observe. Jones took me off the case remember."Jim nodded. "So, what have you observed Jon?"I sighed. "I've observed that these neuro units are incredibly potent mind control devices. I can attest first hand to their power." So you know nothing else?" He asked.I shook my head."Well then, let me bring you up to speed." Jim said. "Ronald. My gown was a deep blue velvet spaghetti straps with a modest neckline but I more daring low draped back. On my feet I wore silver sling backs with a medium-high heal. There’s something about the attention of a gay man that’s surprisingly reassuring. After all- he’s not trying to get in your pants, so there’s no ulterior motive- but he’s still a man so his opinion means something different than if your girls tell you the same thing. I basked in his compliments for a moment. Who doesn’t love to.