Christ... I'm going to go get her now an--" "No... No, sit down. How about we do them one better? Watch this," Amy said and walked over to the couch...where her drunk husband was sleeping. She gave his cheek a light slap and turned to Tyler. "See, Heavy sleeper. Come over here." "What are you doing?" he asked. Amy grabbed Jacob's wrist, lifted it up about six inches and let it drop. "He isn't waking up for anything." "It's like he's hibernating," he said. "You strike me as a 'poetic. "Louise had, even on her better days, never been a fashion plate. Her clothes had generally been clean, but she never seemed at home in them; nothing seemed to match, nothing seemed quite correctly put together. She had tended toward rather ratty tee shirts, ill-fitting jeans and grungy running shoes. Her complexion had been blotchy, her hair straggly and lifeless.Today, Louise was another story. Her hair was shining and casually styled in the way that shows thought has been given to it without. More

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