"Hey, Eric."He looked away a bit, avoiding eye contact, "Hey, Jim."I asked, giving him a chance to admit the truth, knowing he was way too shy to brin... it up, "So have you had time to consider my proposal?"He didn't answer immediately, so I just shrugged and walked away. I wanted him to have to say it, to admit it. I had walked less then fifteen feet when he called out, "Jim, wait."I suppressed a smile and turned around. He walked over to me as timid as a mouse. "I want to do it again."I said,. The first was an antique leather-bound journal with a worn strap holding its covers shut, the second was a heavy envelope with my name, Melissa Gordon, written on it in neat (if old-fashioned) cursive hand. The letter inside was typed on expensive heavy-weight paper that had the company watermark in the center of the page. The letter explained that the law firm had been retained by a small, independent museum to find and return the accompanying diary to the nearest living heir of the doner.. Or so he said it was. To me he looked as if he was wearing a grandmother's MUU-MUU. He wore a pointy cap and was covered in beads made of alligator bones. He smelled of incense. This alone made my head spin.Anyway he had a little suitcase with ingredients. You know the usual voodoo priest stuff. Swamp water, nutria eyes, frog lips, alligator tongue. This is the usual voodoo priest fare. He introduced himself to me as Dr. Boudreaux. Then he went into my kitchen and proceeded to mix up an unholy. Ye sunte hi mano main kab khushi se pagal ho gya mujhe pta hi nhi chala aur fir uske bad maine apni bike uthai aur chal diya. Main jab Uske Ghar pahoncha toh maine dekha ki Vishal juice bna rha tha aur andar khushi sirf nighty me thi aur mujhe dekh kar mujhe baho me lene ko keh rhi thi.Main toh usko aise dekh kar pagal hi ho gya. Fir tabhi 5 minute bad vishal juice le kar aya aur fir uske bad humne ek sath beth kar juice piyaa. Fir uske bad hum bate karne lag gye aur fir uske bad maine usse kha.
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