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Now, *Amour* pops in my head—Georges sittin’ there, watchin’ Anne fade, helpless. “I can’t go on,” he says, suffocatin’ her with that pillow. Heavy stuff. And here I am, hagglin’ with this gal, thinkin’—is this what it comes to? Payin’ for a pulse? She’s tellin’ me her rate, and I’m pissed—$200 for an hour? Robbery! I’m like, “Sweetheart, I could buy a damn Timex for that!” She laughs, says, “Time’s tickin’, old man.” Cheeky, I like her already.

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Finally, I get the reports done. I’m feeling like a champ. But then, I realize I forgot to save. My heart dropped. I could’ve screamed. But I just took a deep breath and prayed to the tech gods. Miraculously, everything was still there. Phew!

Central Juncture of Bressanone-Varna Ring Road / MoDusArchitects