I said that in a generic tone, but loud enough for my beauty to hear. I didn’t turn to her for a comment. She replied on her own, “Ya, some of the... are so ignorant and rash riders, that they don’t even think of people waiting for them back at home”. I turned to her and nodded in agreement.I took my chance in the flow. “By the way, my name is Mohan”. She smiled, shook my hands and replied “I am Smita”.Me : Mumbai?Smita : YesMe : Thank GodSmita (confused) : What?Me : Nothing, I am glad I have. I've only been a genie for, let's see (what decade is this..." "--Harold! Everybody has logic. Somebody even wrote, and I think it was Sherlock Holmes, 'There's logic to this madness'." "Do you want me to, like, find out for you?" "No! I just mean, as weird and unusual as you may have been when you were my former" ("And present") "--and present best friend, life-long companion, and beatnik--Even when you were the Master of the Absurd--" "Wow! I was all of that!?" the na?f said with true. Once to the top, we were in her living room and she asked if I would sit on the couch while she gets her papers. I sat down and started taking in what her apartment looked like. It was a nice apartment and I figured her daddy must be paying for it. She lived with a roommate but there was only one bedroom in which they shared. I started to fantasize about them having sex with each other to satisfy their cravings for sex.She came out and sat on the couch along side of me. Before we started. .. Oh, sure. Let me get one of the staff to help you," she said, smiling."Yeah ... thanks ... good to see you again," I offered weakly."Yeah ... good to see you too." The smile was genuine, I thought.A week later, I returned to the bank to pick up my blank printed checks and I saw Sheila again. This time she was walking about, delivering mail, I assumed. I watched her as I stood in line, wondering what was going on in her life. There was only one way to find out.As I finished picking up my box.
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