The world didn’t have to be more complicated than a white rectangle of sheeting, six and a half feet by five, folded down tenderly over the mattress. The problems Troy was having with the reactor’s fuel mix, proton shedding in the fusion chambers, those weren’t appropriate right now. Troy’s worries about old Fred’s cancer eating him up, whether or not the retrovirals would tear it apart, that didn’t have to matter. Not even that little four letter word Troy could say, but Jennifer couldn’t, was any kind of problem when the world was just six feet by five, flexed softly, and was oh so lightly laced with her perfume. ↓ Read the rest of this entry…