The Signing

I must admit that I had thought of hiring someone to break Carter's bones, and that I had toyed with the idea of hiring a hitman (remember, I had $7M to play with?) but his counsel helped me to move away from doing something so utterly stupid.

So, the piece of music has just finished, I am making myself a pot of real tea the way I like it, and I'm going to put on a movie that Angela isn't going to spoil by chattering throughout it.

I'm looking out through the large windows of my peaceful condo, watching the beautiful sunset over Houston, while Angela is in her prison cell and Carter is in his cell at the United States Penitentiary at Terre Haute, Indiana. Why outside Texas? Something to do with his having skipped a trial under his original name, so they decided he could be a flight risk and needed a maximum security prison. He'll have the same view for over 30 fucking years! "Sucks to be you, Andy, baby!" I said that out loud and giggled to myself.

What now? The radio is turned off, I have a large plate of British biscuits and some British tea ready in a pot (courtesy of the store that sells British goodies, The British Depot in Mason Road, Katy, here in Houston) and I'm going to watch a Wallace and Gromit movie with nobody to interrupt me.

Fucking bliss, and I'm living my best life, ever. Do I miss what I had before with Angela? Yes, I'd be a liar to say I didn't, but I'm missing her less with every passing moment.