The next morning continued the session from night previous. His nerves, still in a mode of clash, confrontation. Mind, on replay. This morning, however, told him something was different. About him. About his relationship with wine. Everything. He didn’t know what it was. Didn’t need to. He hadn’t fetched himself the morning mocha. Not yet.
His office, somewhat organized. Finally. Was this part of it? Was Kelly part of it? She had to be, for as soon as her character and ghostly figure entered that small study, his discomfiture dissolved and his diligence mad demands. She circled his senses, removed self-hindering fences. Mike knew.