What kind of guy do you think I am?’ He went back to the coffee. The smell permeated the room. It was one of the most relaxing things he thought to ...o these days, make a strong coffee. The smell itself was enough to be comforting. The percolator had finished and he poured them both a cup. He added a splash of whiskey to each cup, making sure that his splash was a little bigger. Emma was looking at the transponder on the bench. Hansen was leaning forwards on the kitchen bench, propped on his. Ab ye usse badi jalti thi ki woh raat bhar rang raliya manati hai mai kuch nahi kar pa rahi hu ab mai samaj gaya tha ki who muje phone kyo karti hai.Ab maine usse poocha ki woh abhi to nahi ayegi woh boli nahi jijaji woh 10 baje se pahle nahi ayegi us samay 8:30 ka samay ho gaya tha ab maine pakka than liya tha ki aaj maine use chhodna hai. Ab who uthi kaha jija ji mai ap ke liye chai banati hu par maine usse rok kar uska haat pakad liya aur usko apne sine se chipkaliya woh bahut daar gayai aur. Ace whispered in her ear when they drew the third man into the group—a short, skinny young man with Asian features. “Talk to him, ask him about his cock,” Ace said for her hearing only, as his right hand pinched her right buttock. They had already done the introductions. The circle was Ace, Laura, Jaime the Mexican, Wallace the mechanic from Oklahoma and Rick the Filipino. Laura leaned into Rick, smiling and giddy, speaking softly, “Rick, are you happy to see me?” “Ha! Yea, Laura, I’m happy to. They don’t want us to make our dreams come true. They’re hollow and empty inside. They know an emptiness the rest of us are naturally immune to. To fill that emptiness within themselves, they seek fulfillment through the destruction of others. Our dreams. Our freedom. Our reputation. Our health. Our lives. They want it all. And they’re going to take it. But only if we let them. The haters can wear deceptively familiar faces. My father is a sociopath. A man without conscience. Most people don’t.
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