CHAPTER FIVE
THE SUN SHONE IN THROUGH A SLIT IN THE curtains, and Travis Bland rolled over, burying his head beneath the pillow and mouthing an incoherent curse.
It had been a long night. A very long night, just like the weekly sessions usually were. A little voice reminded him that he had better get a move on if he wanted to make it to his morning classes, and, turning, he discovered with no great surprise that the voice belonged to Sue Ellen.
"Morning," he groaned.
"And how did you sleep?" came the cheerful response.
"Infrequently," he answered, running his hand over the stubble on his chin.
"Poor dear," she said, patting his shoulder. "Wish I could say the same."
"Huh?"
"I mean your good buddy Frank."
"Who?"
"You know-the Durham without the boobs."
"Leave us not be coarse and
