I know I was bitter against her but to see her waste away would be something I wouldn’t wish on her. Besides she was still the mother of my kids. Thelma told me not to write to her because if Rita found out she kept in contact with me that the shit would really hit the fan. I was now out of prison, back in my old hometown, sitting there having a cup of coffee and inhaling the free air. Let’s see, my son would be twenty-four and my daughter twenty-two. I had no idea what they looked like anymore, never seeing even a picture of them in the last seven years since Thelma stopped writing me. Now anytime I saw a young person go by I always wondered about my kids. I hated Rita for what she did to me and our family and would be afraid to see her because I would end up back in prison. I couldn’t hate my kids – a parent just doesn’t do that. They probably never knew the real story and just think of their dad as a killer. Now it was time to plan the rest of my life. Chapter 2: What next? I. The battle never touched this place," he said."Not enough people for any demonstration at all," I said."Good on you," he said. We sat there drinking coffee until he had accessed all the tape. He went back to the postal worker. "We want to take a look at that package for an outside trigger before you pick it up." Come on Brit, Sometimes a bomb is just a fishing pole." I said."And sometimes a bug is a microphone. There are no coincidences, till we find out who wants to bug you." he said."Well at least the coffee is good," I said."That it is, too bad you can't get a decent cup of tea in this country," he said laughing."I shouldn't tell you this, but if you buy a box of good tea, that coffee machine is supposed to make excellent tea as well." I said. "There is a first class grocery store here. I have never been in it, I have heard they carry all that specialty shit."He came out of the store smiling. "Believe it or not this is the brand my mother used to use," he said with a very small.
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