ONE-HUNDRED-THOUSAND-ONE-THOUSAND-THREE HUNDRED-FIFTY-SEVEN WORDS: THAT'S A MOUTHFUL

The current novel now stands at 101,357 words. The first of the secrets are being revealed to P.I. Charley Manning [and reader] as he pursues his investigation. His employer is still not clear. Manning is beginning to distinguish "bad guys" from "good guys", if only because one side seems to be doing the most damage. But who knows? Twists and turns are still in the offing. He must find out what "the research project" is all about, then he'll know which side is which. 

Yesterday, I walked at Fred Meyers, and I observed a very old couple. The woman was in a wheelchair, and her mate was pushing her through the aisles. As I often do, I began to inhabit one of their minds as in a story point of view. I was in the wheelchair pusher's p.o.v., and I imagined him, feeling sad, because he remembers their days of intimacy. Then, I made fun of myself. Why should I think that, I wondered? So many stories could be told that didn't include their sexual lives. As if I don't already know, generalizations are impossible in the world of fiction. The man could just as well be totally pissed at his wife for making him wander so many aisles in search of things he could care less about.  

FIND IT

Odd thing! In my internet search to find photos or art work that portrayed an old man pushing an old woman in a wheelchair, I couldn't find one. Does that speak a thousand truths?