That night Mustafa lay under the covers moving about in every conceivable position. He wasn’t sure whether or not the illness kept him awake. He had...grandiose visions of America being torn apart by an inevitable civil war, and his equally grandiose concepts of peace and love would somehow prevent such a war. He had little idea how to implement these concepts, as though they were opposed to anything real. He had nothing specific, only vague ideas which had no home.He clutched his pillow while. He exhaled and looked at the young man.“You really did your homework, didn’t you?” he smiled.It was sort of nice to have someone tend to your needs and even know how you liked your coffee. Well, it was certainly just a coincidence, as Mark had no idea he wasn’t Alex, and, apparently, he had one other thing in common with Alex, that being how they both liked their coffee. How they both liked Aron.Fuck his brain. Actually, he now had the distinct impression that he was liking Aron even more than. More

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