The owner was some kind of Saudi prince and he was home ... in Saudi. But the operator connected the two of us. British upper class English.He told me...the car was in a garage in Pussy and I had no idea.So he told me; It's close to Geneva, he said, Pussy is a small village in the commune of La Léchère in the Savoie département of France. It is situated on the eastern slope of Mont Bellachat above the left bank of the Isère, 9 km northwest of Moûtiers.And, naturally I wanted to know how it got. The second week, I played a song from one of my favorite indie musicians called Cheers Darling by Damien Rice. It’s a break up song, sad song. I had my back to him when he spoke for the first time. “I like Damien Rice.” I almost dropped my coffee. He spoke. I turned around. “For a minute there I thought you were a mute.” I smiled. He didn’t smile back. He was quite the sexy man. He always wore a suit, never allowed the suit wear him. He was so fly, so dapper. “So will you be talking about why. I felt a hand on my shoulder as my heart-rate was rising.“Don’t panic,” Doc said quietly. “It’s just what you knew would have to be fixed. It’s why you needed the scaffolding down. The view from fifty and a hundred feet away is different than from eighteen inches.”“I don’t want anyone to see it,” I said. Kate had made her way to my side and gave me a hug. I could tell she knew what I was thinking. Jim and Maggie had moved forward a bit and were holding a conversation while pointing at various. With these thoughts dancing through his head he gently tore at the seal and pulled out a single piece of paper with what appeared to be his father’s handwriting. ‘Dear Stephen, I write this note simply to remind you of how much I have loved you and your mother all this years. I know I probably never said it enough, but words never seemed to suffice. All I can hope for now is that you will soon find that you possess, within you, all the tools necessary to gain the happiness that I found with.