It's what we all know that slow which over time rushes to hectic in a sideways glance which says 'give me.' All human activity is toward 'coupling' sideways is job, career and money. We are told we must to deserve our gratuities wages and earnings all else must wait external extremities; and it makes sense at first yet there are my lips external there are my hands extended my external gateways to my internals my mounds heaving my things extending connecting these makes heaving sense and it starts with mouth breathings soul kisses fevered glances silent promises stealthy steps reeling the uncomprehended drawn from hormonal histories merging urges time immemorial consummations; from at glance: You say 'Hi' and I am lost.
This was no mere illusion. Colin Chase Rand, pulled through a magical portal, landed in 1935 where the dust bowl and the Great Depression was destroying lives, and a serial killer was in their midst