For Madmen Only

The 74 bus pulled up to the curb and opened its doors in welcome. A few steps took me inside to the warmth and familiarity of the same short trip, made many days at the same hour to pick up my kids at school. I paid my fare with a plastic card and took my seat in the isolation that marked my time alone and loafing for the day, with nothing to do but ride.

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Paul

The day was just like many others. I was in the lab, setting up for a difficult titration that would take me hours to perform carefully. The work was absorbing and isolating, and I was lost in it. Suddenly, gingerly, Valerie walked into the lab without slipping on her protective goggles. She spoke carefully and quietly in a voice that slipped into my subconscious before it was audible.

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Horseraces and Horse Sense

Tuesday is mailday, a tradition that I allowed to fall underneath the wave of tradition that took up the last two weeks. Today, it is back. Thanks for all your letters, which I love to receive as wabbitoid47 at yahoo.com. First up is this one:

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