I have just sent my story “Things You Don’t Want” to its seventh adressee, which is, for me, a record. I’d give up, but it would be pointless. After a certain amount of time, I become twitchy if I’m not working on some kind of fiction. And this one was one of those stories that comes up on your like one of Cassandra’s prophecies…nobody wants to hear it, but it’s true, and it won’t not be said. Nevertheless, not a happy, skippy day at the House of the D.