I was walking down Santa Monica about two yesterday afternoon when suddenly a young man ran passed me grabbing my purse." And he knocked you down?" As I asked questions Frank took notes."Yes he did. He didn't have to get rough. I would have given it to him if he had only stopped me." You'd have given it to him Ma'am?" Well of course. I never carry more than a couple of hundred in cash and certainly that wouldn't be something for me to fuss about." Do you always carry that much cash?"Miss Peterson shifted and crossed her legs again but not before her skirt rode up higher. This time most of her bare legs were exposed and there had been a flash of panty. She seemed indignant, sat up straighter. Both Frank and I could see her large breasts filling her blouse as they stretched out the material."Of course. I don't like credit cards, you see." OK, Miss Peterson. Now when he knocked you down were you hurt in anyway?" A little when my arm hit the sidewalk. It was when his body struck mine. She was glad Daddy had picked fresh leaves from the bushes behind the drafty little building. She could just imagine using half-dried leaves and them crumbling and her getting poop on her fingers. Yuk!She wiped the best she could and then left for a quick cleansing dip in the lagoon. As she stepped out the door her mind drifted back to her father. She still wasn't over the hurt of being relegated to the far side of the bed. They used to play a game to see which of them would sleep in the middle until she got her own room. Occasionally there were times, such as camping trips, when they'd all sleep together in one tent and they'd play odd/even, or rock/scissors/paper, or some other quick game to see who got the middle.As she passed by the kitchen window she heard her mother exhaling in short, explosive bursts, a sound that could mean only one thing. She glanced inside. Mom was facing the bedroom and leaning forward with her head down, resting her hands on top of the table. Daddy was.
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