I settled down in the tawny cushions of the wicker chair in the kitchen to talk on my cell to Mark. I was a bit worried I hadn"t charged the phone lately.
A wash of sunlight fell through the window above the counter and splashed on the hardwood floor in front of me. I tried to count the dust motes. That hadn"t changed, still counting, I thought. My fingers flew, tapping out a rhythm of motes.
“Hi. Mark?”
“How are you?”
“Better than you think.”
“How do you know what I think?” He chuckled. I yawned.
“Am I boring you?” He"s teasing me. Cute. “I always yawn when I"m excited,” I said.
I knew he was grinning from his tone of voice. “I have that effect on pretty women,” he said. “They get breathless.”
“You got it right. Pardner. Now why"d you call?” I was all business, just before the pho
