"I heard about what happened to you and your wife. Ramon Vasquez is one tough hombre," stated the stranger as they sat at a back table. "You're probab...y lucky just to be sitting here right now. A lot of men would have been buzzard bait by now."Tom nodded though he didn't feel very lucky at all right now."You seem to know a lot about me," Tom said somewhat suspiciously."Well," said Barrett, "Mrs. Jenkins is good at helping Doc Welty, but she does have a loose tongue. I"m afraid it's all over. Someone has been here, sleeping in that bed." When was the last time you were here?" I asked."I can't remember. Sometime in October. We never leave the place with unmade beds or unwashed clothes and dishes. We just don't do that," she said, looking about the room suspiciously.She marched to the phone on the bedside table and picked it up. She scrolled what I assumed was the number memory and pushed a button."Hello, this is Georgette Fulton. I'd like to report a break-in. It's at the Fulton. First was a guy called Harold. He said that his wife was just ordinary and could not believe that some guys actually prefer old fat ladies. I told him that there were and I would call round the following evening.Their home was on a council estate and looked ok. Harold answered the door and led me through to the lounge and introduced me to his wife. As he said , Joyce was no stunner neither ugly – just average.Over a cup of tea, I tried to put them at ease and after about half an hour they began. I would know my way there with my eyes closed. Now I closed them as I walked so I could envision him. I could feel his lips against my skin and his body pressed against mine. I would be ready for him. I stop in front of our tree. I sit down with my back against it. The rough bark against my back reminds me of the physical world and brings me back from my inner wanderings. The elder Druids have told me that those who have lost and grieved are closer to the other world because their soul cries.