Three weeks hadn't changed Cop Central. The coffee was still poisonous, the noise abominable, and the view out of her stingy window was still miserable. She was thrilled to be back.

Alone in her shelter, she allowed herself tears. When her shelter cooled to the touch she called to Gull, “Coming out!” She eased her head out into the smoky air, looked over at Gull. She imaged they both looked like a couple of sweaty, parboiled turtles climbing out of their shells. “Hello, gorgeous.” She laughed. It hurt her throat, but she laughed. “Hey, handsome.

Wouldn't it be nice if everything balanced in the world? If right came out on top and wrong was punished. It sure would be simple.

She could and had faced an armed laser in the hands of a mad mutant mercenary with less fear than she faced such unswerving emotion.

My own sense of family, where I came from and what I made for myself is an important part of my life.

Didn't people consider what could happen if armies of farm animals united in revolt?

Happily ever after?" "If justice doesn't triumph and love doesn't make the circle in entertainment fiction, what's the point? Real life sucks too often.