“What’s wrong with your knee?” “My joint is artificial. There is a lubrication problem, especially when the weather is bad. My knee is progra...med to lock up if the problem persists. Further problems can be avoided that way.” The cab arrived just when the downpour started. * Nicole’s knee didn’t get better so we went to the clinic for an examination. I waited in the corridor for over an hour, either pacing or sitting on a chair. Finally, the door creaked and she reappeared, a tiny figure on. " But... but, you're dead," she rasped hoarsely. "They told me you're dead." They lied, baby."Her brows drew together, her eyes darkening in her confusion. "How... ?" It's a long story, love, and now's not the time. I came for you. It's not safe to stay here anymore. I have to get you out." I... What?" To Camille the whole world no longer made sense. This man touching her was her dead husband, but how could that be?"I know you're confused but we have to leave. I'm sorry, love. I wish there were. The stereo was pumping out tunes when my doorbell rang.My doorbell never rings. My heart started thumping inside my chest as I was thinking, 'what if, please if there is a God in the universe, let it be her' as I was also slapping myself to get a grip on reality.Just as I opened the door I realized I was wearing my neon orange polyester sweatpants that no one has worn in a decade with my "Eat Shit and Die" marijuana brownie T-shirt of another earlier, bygone era. Of course, it was the. Us? I thought as my heart began to race.“A-a, yes. Yes, we are,” Nancy replied.Joan pushed the door opened and walked in, followed by two men.Oh shit, I thought.“This is who you'll be fucking, my sister Nancy.” Joan began. “That is her cuckold husband Harry or Harriet. This is Greg and this is Dan.”“And this is a bit awkward,” Dan interjected.“Oh?” Joan quizzed.“Harry and I work together,” he said.Nancy and Joan giggled as Dan and I greeted each other.“And now you've seen him like never.