She had an entire woodworking shop in her garage there on Seventh, and her house was full of painter's stuff. I loved loved loved to visit her. Like h...r mom, she never treated me like a little k** even when I was a little k**. I don't think she knew how.We were driving down San Pablo, away from her house, in the Crosley. She called it the" Chicken Coop de Ville"."Honey, I hear you are fucking everyone in sight. I hear you're hotter than a Somali Tamale. Am I hearing the truth, or is somebody. A statue stood not too far away from the stairs. I didn’t understand why there would be a statue but no other decorations. In all of the movies and TV shows I had seen when a vault was involved, the inside of the vault was always purely functional. There were never any decorations other than possibly some artwork being stored inside.I looked around the staircase and saw more doors. The hallway continued around a corner. It made me wonder just how big this place was. I had to be careful. If this. ” “No, I did not,” I said. “I had my mouth full.” She laughed. She had that clear mountain stream quality to her laugh. It danced in my chest. “Put that down.” She gestured at my cup. “Come here.” She reclined on the bed, smiled, opened her legs and held her breasts. “Come here, I’m not done with you yet.” A woman in charge of her wants is a life-affirming thing to behold. On hands and knees I loomed over her. My shadow didn’t cast over her face. The early sunlight lit up the green in her. I ate a fewmouthfuls of cereal, my appetite was low, the fear in my stomach highas the time approached for my ex wife to drive her daughter, nieces andher ex husband to school. I sat in the car my mind spinning. The noisefrom the others faded into the background as I looked down at myuniform knowing that in a short while I would be seated at a desk withothers that were of age group that my manufactured body said that Iwas. Of all the sick humiliations that I had endured over the last fewmonths.