The egg was gathering steam. One inch. The brain in its miraculous way makes lightening fast connections. Would the egg stop on the barely noticeable ...ip on the edge of the tile, or did it have enough momentum to get past that barrier? I’d recently watched the movie, ‘Match Point,’ again. The opening scene is the playing for the key point in a tennis match. The ball hits the net and drops, barely over … or not, and decides a championship on a turn of the ball. The egg would roll over and crash. The man tore at the bottom of Julie’s blouse. With a pop, the last buttons gave way, ripping from their threading and clinking with a few hops onto the wooden floor. The man reached around Julie’s back, still holding her steady by her head. She didn’t dare move as she felt him pinch her bra strap together. He let the elastic strap relax apart—he had unclasped it. He pulled firmly on her hair and yanked the front of her bra down. It was already too small, and Julie’s big tits easily bulged. More

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