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Fiction or non-fiction? Non-fiction, or fiction? That is the question. “The mind is truly a
terrible thing to waste,” especially when we have so many stories to tell. Of the five stories
that I have running around in my brain, this story pushed its way forward. Whether you like
your coffee with cream, or straight black, I believe that this story, this topic will touch you in
one way or another.
It took me thirty-six years to really realize what took place. I met a lady who was in trouble,
but I didn’t know it. I met a woman who was in deep and serious contemplation about who
she was, and why she shouldn’t exist anymore. It was a chance encounter, like
watching a mouse under your seat at a movie theater about to eat a chunk of bad cheese.
In a single moment, death wanted to introduce itself. It was begging for the loveliness of her
life to disappear.
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Run Dr. Randall-Randall run! You possess information that could change the world as we know it, and the president wants you dead!
An assortment of secret agents has been dispatched to carry out this mission. You may have to go under cover, but don't worry, there are unknown forces that have your back, and you just may survive this unexpected ordeal.
You are a good man. A trusted man, yet good and trusted men get caught in a web of death and lose their lives too.
The Sofa Coast may be your only safe space to live the rest of your life. Good luck to you!

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The darkness is interrupted by the sound of Ashley’s voice saying, “Wake up Quinten, you got to wake up. Don’t leave, please don’t leave us this way!”
QPP’s body is limp as in the throes of death. Ashley is weeping and exclaiming softly, “I love you. I love you. You know that I loved you!” Evelin has also returned to the office after several hours had passed and Quentin didn’t come home from work.
She pauses just outside of the door and enters the private suite acting like she didn’t hear a word Ashley said.
In her tears Ashley cries out to Evelin, “Call 911, he’s dying, call 911!”
In a faked urgency, Evelin rushes to his desk and pretends to call 911 on her cellphone.
“Hello,” she could be heard saying, this is Evelin Phillips, my husband is critically suffering. We need someone here right away!”
She rushes back into where Ashley is still sobbing with Quinten in her Arms. “Someone should be here shortly, hang in there Quinten!” She cries out in faux concern.
Ashley looks up in disbelief exclaiming, “He’s gone. He’s gone! I know he’s gone!”
She cuddles him one more time, kisses him on the forehead and says, “Goodbye Q.”
I would love to hear from you.
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