“Hello, it’s Gordon”“Uhm, hello Albert, this is Kathy Gouben.”“Kathy Gouben? Oh yes, Vince’s, non-wife. What can I do for you?”“Well, I, need to talk with you about, some, help I need.”“Help? What kind of help?”“Financial. You see, the, uhm, there are, taxes on the inheritance. And uhm, I could use some help.”“Yes, I understand. Why don’t you come down and see me.”“I can try and get there tomorrow afternoon. I only have an hour though.”“I do not have meetings tomorrow afternoon. I’ll see you at 3pm?”“3pm is good for me.”When she dropped off Dylan at Mrs. Robinson’s the next morning she asked if she could pick him up after 5pm, saying she had a meeting downtown. Mrs. Robinson’s agreed easily; she loved Dylan and always doted on him. She wanted to go home and change but she was running late because the afternoon waitress was late, so she jumped on the bus forgoing a change of clothes.His office was in a nondescript office building on the third floor. Getting off the elevator she. "Who are you?" I say, touching my throat as if it were sore and trying to get up, but the person who isn't me is in the way. He seems worried and confused, which worries and confuses me. "I'm Chris," replies Chris outside my door, thinking I was talking to him. "And if you two are done having fun I really need to use the shower." I shove the fake me off of me and climb out of the shower, turning off the water as I do so, but quickly lose balance and fall, grabbing hold of the towel rack but accidentally tearing it out of the wall in an attempt to catch myself. I'm now laying on the wet floor of the bathroom, my knee and shoulder slightly bruised, holding a metal towel rack and my towel in my hand. "We'll be right out," I say, again with that strange, female voice. What has happened still hasn't clicked in my brain, but Renamon has already figured it out, panicked, formed a plan, and calmed back down. I however, only just now get it when I look down at my hand holding the towel and.
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