The fact that he now got to come home to a blond bombshell every night was one of the reasons he was a great professor. Academia was only his job. His...life was Fran. He was well balanced."Jenny's doing her homework," Fran purred, referring to the Ted's niece, who was living with them while her parents were helping build an orphanage somewhere in Africa. "But it's math, and she's a whiz at that, so we'll have to hurry. We wouldn't want her to catch us."She teased me like that a lot, but only. In fact, for this particular magic, a whisper was better than a shout. Erica needed to hear them, however. I reached the critical part. I closed my eyes and opened my perception. I spoke slowly, uttering the final word. Erica must have lit the candle, for I felt my body slip away.Far beneath me I saw a vast tapestry with billions of interwoven threads. I could view its extent in one direction as it stretched back into the past. The other way, toward the future, was obscured in cloud and shadow.. Schnitzler died in 1931. I didn’t like his rather abrupt and inconclusive ending, so I continued the story and wrote my own. This story uses a number of terms, phrases and place names that are in common use by Angelenos. Please note that the voting will be turned off since the first part of the story, although retold in modern day California, is a derivative work. Two additional things I should mention up front: There is almost no dialog during most of the first half of the story, because the. We started hanging out a lot, and though I wasn’t particularly attracted to him in the physical sense, he was really smart and pretty nice. Regardless, I worked myself all up into a heap over how I could get him to kiss me. One night he convinced me to go to his house so we could “study” for a Spanish quiz. I took my mom’s car – it was 11 o’clock on a Tuesday night and the thrill of sneaking out of the house was dwarfed by the sensations running all thorugh my body, I was fluttering, I was.