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His body seemed relaxed and frenetic at the same time. It was actually a wonder he had the attention span to read at all. His eyes widened and narrowed at random as the muscles in his face contorted into a different expression from one second to the next. He turned the pages of the book quickly; his eyes scanning each page almost like a copy machine.The module, or room within as it were, was as equally contorted as Fletcher himself. An odd mix of some early twentieth century furniture with present day technology thrown in.It was almost a page out of the very book that Fletcher sat reading. A Tiffany floor lamp with its ornate glass hood of different colors stood next to one side of the chair, ancient incandescent bulbs glowed from beneath its shade and through the glass. A dark wood table on the other side had many books piled on top. There was also a gun-like object on the table as well. The opposite wall had a large shelf of books with an eclectic assortment of hardbound paper; some. I have. I’ve had to.”“What time do you finish tonight?” I asked.“I’m off tonight.”“Doing anything?”She made a dismissive sound involving vibrating lips.“No?” I continued. “So would you like to come round to my place? I’ll make some food and we can have a few drinks.”“Are you asking me out?”“No, I’m asking you in. But we can go out if you prefer.”“Like where?” she said. “No.”“No what?”“No I don’t think we should go out.”“But we could stay in? At my house?”“Are you sure?”“What’s such a big deal?” I asked, getting a tiny bit exasperated.“Okay. What time?”“Eight?”“Okay.”Somebody from the kitchen brought my breakfast and Lizzie stayed out of the way for the half hour I stayed there, but I caught her eye as I was leaving and she raised eight fingers.I had a nice old house on the beach, courtesy of the firm I worked for, which must have had more money than sense. Walk out of my garden gate and you were on the sand, with an Australian pine giving shade to the place I used to lounge. Funny.
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