She wasn't makeup-and-clothes-obsessed, she wasn't a mouthy brat, she wasn't an angst-ridden teenager, she just was who she was. Her hair was a shade ...f red you could never bottle. Her eyes were hazel, my favorite eye-color on a woman, always swirling with emotions and mystery. She liked the same music as me, the same literature, the same sports (actually she only liked two sports, but they are my two favorite sports). I'll even admit that I would sometimes try to get a look down her top. Her. "Give us a week, and we will have it and I assure you it will be right," he said."While you have it check it out completely," I insisted. "I mean from the wheels to the windshield."I rode the bike away headed for home. I stopped at Mr.BJ's for a biscuit and cup of bad coffee on the way, since it was on the way. Again I sat outside at the concrete tables to eat. It was almost lunch time when I got back to the barge. I could tell Wilson wanted to talk to me, but he wasn't quite ready to tell me. More

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