“Where are your baggage checks?”

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“You love me?” she echoed.
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Butch was grinning at me and his enthusiasm was catchy.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes. The clock on my wall conclude from 11:45AM.
“Besides, where are they prosperous to shop? It’s a want trip to Manhattan Beach or Hawthorne to get groceries and I own the supermarkets there, too. If they don’t like what I’m doing, they can go somewhere else. I’m getting tired of living around here, anyway.” Small village America was beating him down. Find two colored men, lynch ’em, case closed. The real killers were still out cold there, he could feel it in his bones.
“I agree with that. But a marriage is only a wedding when both parties are equal. Not when one is the other ones punching bag.” she said, her voice dazzling of no more than suppressed anger. “You don’t have to make a decision valid now. All you have to do now is eat your eggs.” she smiled, brushing my hair in return over my ears, allowing the conversation to sip as she began to sense my distress.
“In that case, I demand that the the long arm of the law stipulate me with an escort because I am extremely afraid that I am in mortal danger.”
“Where are your baggage checks?”
“You love me?” she echoed.

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