Just when I thought I was going to bail I was up until all hours riveted. And then it went no where. Then, again, up til all hours, riveted just to have the story petter out to .... nothing? I don't know. I didn't like writing, things that could've been something were nothing; things that were nothing tried to be something. And yet . . . Yeah, I don't know. I didn't hate it, but I'm not sure I liked it.