"The painting was a texture, really, like someone had added color on a canvas at random. But it wasn't quite brushed on, or scraped on, or dripped on....More like it was willed on, one molecule at a time. The whole piece looked like it was painted inside of pieces of shiny glass.Running throughout the work were blue veins of luminescent paint, almost looking like hypoxic blood flowing through folds in paper. Towards the top center, the painting glowed with a radiant orange burst, like it was. We entered his office, he looked at his aide and ordered, "I don't want to be disturbed." He looked at the Sgts., glared at me and gruffly ordered, "Take a seat."We sat, he read the papers again, glared more at me and questioned, "Major do you have any idea what these papers say?"I honestly replied, "No Sir!"He looked at the Sgts. and continued, "What about the both of you?"Sgt. Reynolds answered, "No Sir!"He slid one set of papers to me and one set to the Sgts. I started reading. OH. Even if on her wedding day she did happen to feel that the wedding dress was a little too dramatic and she thought letting the best man grope her breasts strange. But her new husband was so very excitable watching her with his best friends hand inside her dress. She was pleased that such a small thing as having her breast m*****ed by a third part, made her husband thrill, and she wanted to so make him happy with her.The honeymoon was a step up in her duties.He always loved watching her being. "What chu lookin' fo'?" asked a quiet voice."Mrs. McF--," I replied after I got my pulse rate down and turned to face the lady's black driver with my bayonet in my hand."She in d'house yonder," he said. "Cavortin'." Bridget Kathleen with her?" I asked.He nodded and smiled. "They's both carvortin'." Can you get me something to eat?" I asked.He nodded and disappeared while I sat on a box and waited. The sun was setting behind me and the cold was rising fast from the river. Bridget herself brought.
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