Bernard stared at the gear. Then he took out his red pen, uncapped it, and drew a small, perfect circle around a period on his newspaper. He handed the paper to Eugene.
The next Tuesday, Arthur was back. He had a bandage on his thumb and a wild look in his eye. “The cuckoo bird escaped,” he said. “Got out the window. I chased it three blocks.” old men gangbang
Bernard, a former librarian, had lost his wife, his hair, and most of his patience. His entertainment was silent rage. He read the newspaper not for news but for misspellings. He circled them with a red pen, wrote angry letters to editors he never mailed, and folded each page into a precise, sharp-edged rectangle. By the end of breakfast, he had a stack of paper bricks. Arthur used them to level the cuckoo clock’s base. Bernard stared at the gear