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He smiled to himself as he remembered the bus ride back to Phoenix and the shared dream he had with JJ. His smile broadened when he thought about his kiss with JJ. He remembered some crazy dreams from the previous evening that involved JJ and her daughters that were very interesting. He remembered sinking into a deep oblivion after his dreams that lasted until he woke up. He tried to evaluate how he felt. His body felt fine, better than fine in fact. He didn't have the familiar stiffness or sluggishness common to a good night's sleep. The headachy feeling he had earlier yesterday was gone and the full feeling in his head was gone. His memory of the 48 hours lacked the haziness common to memories that gain a little age or are superseded by newer, more important memories and concerns.Jim sat up suddenly and asked, "Al, are you still here, there, are you gone?" I am here Jim," Al replied in his head."How come I can remember my dreams so clearly?" Jim asked."In many ways," Al answered,. It was Thursday, which meant cold cuts and home-made pickles with watery mashed potatoes, made with margarine instead of butter under war-time rationing, followed by something like tinned peaches and Bird’s powdered custard made with water rather than milk. It wasn’t much of a meal to miss, even though I was quite hungry.Miss Marcia la Mare, a supposedly self-absorbed mistress of the silver screen, noticed my quiet reflection and, without a word from me, offered a solution to a problem that I suppose she must have sensed I had.“I guess it’s pretty late for quiet little London town in the middle of a war, Mr Onslow?” she asked, back in her American accent. I nodded in reply.She said this in the same assertive voice she had used in my office yesterday. As my client she was all too aware that she was also my employer.“Do yah usually cook yahr own evenin’ meal when you get home, or do yah have a house-keeper who does that small service for yah?”“I live in a lodging house, Miss la Mare,.
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