“It’s not okay. I’m a loser,” he said, one more time. But he had more control now. It was more of a statement. He pulled back, looking me in t...e eye, declared it again: “I’m a loser, Mr. James.”“No, Ryan. You’re not.”“What I got that’s good, huh,” he snuffed, daring me to find his strengths in the pile of weaknesses that grasped my larger frame.“Son – yeah – you’re fucked up. But we all are. Fuck, k**. I’m a drunk. Holding on one day at a time. You’ll figure out your shit – in the meantime,. "Michael ran out of the kitchen and into the lounge where all hispresents were waiting to be played with. He took off the coat and put itcarefully on the chair, after putting the note back into the pocket.It was a busy day for Michael, what with having to play with all his newtoys. After breakfast, Nanny, Granddad, Auntie Pat, Uncle Peter andMichael's cousins Daniel and Penny came to visit. They were staying forthe day.Daniel and Penny had brought some of their toys to play with and thechildren. I continued to watch, and a couple of minutes later, a step-van type vehicle pulled up to the front. Then the door opened, and I could see about five men, a couple in suits, others in t-shirts and jeans, but all handcuffed, being put into what I now recognized as a prisoner transport.It struck me right then: If I'd finished my breakfast just a couple of minutes earlier this morning, I would have been one of the 'johns' snared in this raid. It would have been MY name in the paper as having been. "I don't have much in the way of breakfast supplies in the house. But I could... I have margarine, and maybe some grape jelly or something." I'll be fine," I said. "I like a real breakfast. If you can't come with me, I'll stop someplace for breakfast, alone, on the way back to Bowie. I'll be fine."She still didn't get up and leave the room. "You're not... sleeping in the nude, are you?" she asked me."No." Where are your things? Your clothes?" I hung them up," I said. "In the coat closet, there..