The Resurrection of Booger Mapes

...For the umpteenth time this morning, the thin man with wary eyes pours another cup of coffee and returns to his seat at the dinette table. He performs the task for something to do, just like the sip he takes from the cup, more for action than thirst. There is nothing unfamiliar about, but he studies the air before his face with intensity. His gaze moves from the checkered oilskin tablecloth to the pale light of the only kitchen window and back again. Through a deep mental fog he sees neither. He is lost in thought. The thump of frying pan on the stove top makes him jump. Rina has come into the kitchen without him even noticing, and is now bustling about the kitchen doing cooking things with a familiar ease and her peculiar habit of humming to herself when pleasantly occupied. Her back is straight, hips full and fi rm, and buttocks tightly packed into the confi nes of denim jeans. With the unnerving second sense of some women, she glances over her shoulder with a knowing smile...