" She repeated. She smiled as she said this. Her perfectly applied red lipstick sparkled under the overhead florescent lighting."Yes, Miss Cohen." I s...ammered."Helene. You can call me Helene." She grinned a sly grin as she spoke."Yes Helene." I said, trying to be calm as I took the folder from her soft, delicate hand.I felt a stiffening in my trousers like an I-beam being extruded at a steel mill. I held out the folder to block what I knew was a bulge I couldn't battle.Helene just smiled again. She was convinced that he was going to die in a plane, just like her father had, and for no other reason than to just be up in the air fucking around. She couldn't accept that, and Ken knew that, sooner or later, they were going to have to have a conversation about what was going on. He needed to be armed with the information about what really happened to her father, but so far, nothing had been forthcoming in that direction, so he decided to speak to Bill.He wandered into the lab and saw that. At first you wonder if you had gone blind as when you raised your arm to rub your eyes, you couldn’t see your hand. This however changed when you couldn’t feel your face, or your body, or your hands. It was like you didn’t have a body any more.“Ahh! Good! You’re here!” exclaimed an exuberant female voice from seemingly everywhere at once.“Where am I?” You ask “Who are you?” You add, attempting to look around in the wide open nothingness.“Me? I’m not important” came the female voice as a girl. She was playful at heart, and was known to be immature and always happy. She is 18 (like the rest of you) and stands at 5'6.Across the aisle were Thomas and Walt, the police officers. They were best friends and their families were some of the most important people in North America. Thomas had tan skin, striking grey eyes and a silver earring on his left ear. He wore a ring his mother gave to him on his left index finger. His mother was killed in a violent incident involving a gang. Thomas.
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