"Please, it says you are a mechanic, in your profile." Taxi driver nowadays" I corrected."But you were a Mechanic? you have tools." I am not coming to...fix your bloody motor at one in the morning, goodbye." I slammed the phone down.It rang again, "We were cut off." she said."No I put the bloody phone down, now sod off." No don't go, I need help," Call the bloody AA," They don't do bondage" Eh," I thought I had mis heard "They don't do bondage." I thought that's what you said," I replied. ”“You okay?” I asked.She climbed down from the ladder, grumbling sourly. She got down on her hands and knees and started raking the contents, a bunch of old photos and albums, into a pile.I dropped what I was doing and moved over to help her.It was all her stuff. High School yearbooks, fat scrapbooks, faded photos from college, etc. There were lots and lots of loose photos. Hundreds. Woulda been a small fortune in film and development costs back in the day. Her with frizzy 80s hair, her with. More

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