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Rendered mute by anguish, I continued on my way—without hesitation, but with heaping buckets of regret. In a twisted way, I took solace in the fact that a conflict that had gnawed at my soul for months was now resolved. Not resolved in the manner of my choosing, but the weight dissipated just the same. With it went unbelievable potential. The void created by that loss sucked the air from my lungs, and the hemorrhaging emotional wound threatened my ability to remain conscious. Walk! I commanded my legs. I didn’t look back, but I listened for the door to close as I extracted my cell phone from my purse. For all I knew, he watched me until I was out of sight. I never heard the door close. In the taxi, I managed to croak the name of my hotel before the tears overpowered my defenses. The driver passed me a tissue and awkwardly asked if I needed help. I needed something, but help wasn’t it. Pulling myself together—or, at least, the semblance of such—I made two calls from the cab, one brief. “Tommy ... you’re a wizard! Where’s my portaflex?” I started looking around. “There you are ... Bobby? Gimmie a Philips ... No?”“You need to look.”“What’s to see ... it’s screwed on.”“Take off the top and have a look see.”So ... to humor him, I unclipped the top. It didn’t take long.“My God, Bobby ... those aren’t screws ... those are spears.”“Pull off the grill and talk to me.”It’s sorta Velcro ... but not. George de Mestral hadn’t perfected it. This Velcro was kind of white ... not the ubiquitous black so familiar today. It was the hook and loop but it was different. Still it separated when pried and I soon had it off. The spears had no screwdriver slot ... no Philips ... no hex socket. Did I Really want to satisfy curiosity ... really? Could I sacrifice one just see how it worked?One thing for sure ... mounting a speaker was just asking for holes in the cone.I suppose I had better have a look ... I needed to dismantle at least one. I have a good selection of tools ... wrenches,.
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