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But he looked troubled at the health of his supposed victim. She checked the list, smiled sweetly, nodded, then she enlightened him, that she did not exist in the UK now, and “yes she was ill, terminally ill” and” if he killed her that was no big thing as we were ready to vanish any-body so there would be no legal comeback, though she hoped she had a week or two yet she wanted to experience whatever was on that list and in full, before he left tomorrow!” He was still unconvinced, so she took his hand and said that, “look Stephen, I will write you a letter saying it is my wish to enjoy a last burst of severe pain and that if I die, well, so be it, will that appease your conscience?” he said it would and she was a brave woman facing death with such a fantastic attitude!” She denied that, saying she was as scared as the next man of the hereafter, but she had no choice, “l am going to die and if not at your hands, at my request in a few weeks my husband will have to kill me rather than I. She was thrilled with the coffee he bought and she decided to make them lattes with some of the beans. ‘I used to be a barista,’ she explained as she turned on the espresso machine. Jeff watched her work, she obviously knew exactly what she was doing. The machine hissed and sputtered and her hands were a blur as she made coffee and steamed milk. Before he knew it she was holding two cups with identical white hearts on top made of foam. ‘Lets sit on the couch,’ she suggested, giggling a little bit when he took a sip and groaned because the coffee was so good. They sat down and she turned towards him, studying his face with a furrowed brow. He started to work up the courage to say something but she didn’t give him a chance. ‘I missed you,’ she said, then she set their coffees on the table and before he knew it she was in his arms again. Her soft lips latched onto his desperately, and she grabbed the front of his shirt, holding him to her. He happily wrapped his hands around her.
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