She was playing a beautiful piece of music, and it occurred to me to wonder what she thinks about as she plays. For instance, does she ever think of h...rself as a ten-year old girl learning to play? Of course, a professional is intently concentrated on her playing, but with a piece that she knows well, I’ll bet that her mind wanders, just a bit. Understandably, these mental wanderings would only take split seconds of time each time—like snapshots, with each story built upon many such lapses. He's one of the star players on the team. Come with me." Nichols turned and walked into the office. He snapped on the light switch and picked up a phone. He dialed and smiled just a little, grim and determined, while he waited for someone to answer. Finally, he said, "Ben? Mr. Nichols. Yeah, sure. Look, you better get over here, 'Bradford's raping your girl. Hell, I don't care what you do to him. Bradford doesn't work for me any longer. Just don't kill the son of a bitch. I don't want you in. More

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