His statement startled me. Again, the skin prickled all along my backside, and the hair on my arms and legs snapped to attention. Images of my Uncle Clarence, the one who resided in the upstate mental hospital fashioning animal figurines out of fudge-bar sticks, flashed through my head. Last weekend, while hunting the dingy hallway for the dark-clad man who’d seemingly vanished into thin air, I thought I’d swiftly be joining my dear old uncle in the booby hatch. But now I debated whether I should pack a suitcase for two and drag the artist along with me.
Hell, at least we’d be together. I wonder if they have a Honeymoon Rubber Room Suite…
Okay, okay, so maybe my new lover was crazy. As whacked out as I was last weekend. Maybe insanity ran in more families than just my own. And maybe I di
