We were fixing an installation at Forte de Basso when he sent me off via taxi. He armed me with a slip of paper, instructions on to-and-from, and I was off on an obscure erron to find hardware in a foreign city where I did not understand the roads, language or currency. The taxi driver rolled away into the pouring rain and darkening sky. Cold dread was written on Kyle's face as the image of someone thinking they had just made the worst mistake and mega-regret of an entire lifetime ... reading as, What have I done? I’m never going see her again.
“Okay", he said brightly, "We can each have 3 and a half headaches.”
-kb, after counting the aspirin for the unth time.