I had only seen maybe half a dozen kids come through and climb around on the aircraft and I turned to face the new group that had walked up to me and ...mmediately felt a warm, wet, sticky blob slap me in the face. The girl standing in front of me looked up at me and said, “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, baby killer.” Yep, one of the guests for this little function had decided to spit in my face and call me a baby killer. Hadn’t happened in quite a while and of course, it couldn't be some. Me: The one that made its debut on the Unity Theatre last September? Peter: Yes. Me: The one I spent months agonising over? Peter: For the third time, yes. Me: Do you have a copy? Peter: Yes, Why? Don’t you? Okay, we have to hold it there a minute while he laughs at his own joke. What can I say? He’s a card. Me: As it happens, no. Peter: No what? So now, unlike my masterful piece of writing – put on stage in Liverpool, no less – the conversation starts getting tedious. No I didn’t make a back. The next morning when I got up, Seeta is not seen anywhere. I was still lying naked on my bed. My lunge is still on the floor but no signs of Seeta’s clothes. We never talked. Infect the silence continued for a few more days. When I got back the following day from my trip, things were different at home. Seeta got dressed beautifully in a very nice Saree and she had flowers in her hair. Normally widows never wear flowers in their hair. She is also seemed to be in a good mood. I was happy but. I spent most of that time reliving my experience with Clara, trying to understand why it had been so different making love to her. After I came out, I got dressed and went out to the kitchen, trying to get something to eat before we left for the movies. My mother had already fixed me a plate of cold cut sandwiches, and a big scoop of her macaroni salad."How did you fix things with Clara, Laurant? Katinka is so happy right now. Is she going to stay happy?" I don't know if fixed is the right.