I sipped my cider andlooked at Jessica, who was playing with a fingernail. I didn't respond.After a brief pause, he answered the question. "The Wiza...ds. Rememberthe team with the hot point guard? We watched him play last year?"I felt myself blushing, as I was reminded of sitting courtside last yearwith Peter, asking so many basic questions about the game and what wasgoing on. I was fixated by the point guard - a shorter white guy withfloppy blond hair. I couldn't remember his name, but I. Being of average strength, he marveled at how easily he moved the statue down the path and through the rusted iron gates to his van.Mitch looked at his desk clock, almost two AM, 'Gotta get up in time for work, ' he thought. 'Better wash up and get some sleep'.Mitch awoke with a start. The moon illuminated his bedroom, shining through the sliding glass doors. He felt a thrill of fear as a shining figure materialized at the foot of his bed. His eyes widened in shock, it was a woman. Not just any. More

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