CHAPTER ONE<br > In the semi-darkness of his book-littered office，<br >the bluish glow of the monitor cast an eerie reflection<br >across the weary face of the man bent over his<br >computer; his full attention upon the content of the<br >white lines of words marching in orderly fashion and<br >precision across the glowing screen. The hour is late，<br >but to Benjamin Rush， time is completely relative，<br >and aside from planes to catch and deadlines to meet，<br >it has little meaning. He completes the page， scrolls<br >it back and reviews what he has written.<br > Satisfied at last， Ben prints out a draft copy of<br >the chapter， and with it in hand， makes his way to<br >the kitchen and brews himself a pot of tea to sip on<br >while he goes over it.<br > Frowning， he blue pencils several lines， deletes<br >some words and sentences， adck~ others. Then， intent<br >upon the sheaf of pages， cup in one hand， he heads<br >for the bedroom at the other wing of the house， to get<br >his wife s opinion. Suddenly， he pauses in mid stride，<br >a look of indescribable pain upon his thee . . .<br > She s gone. Anne s not here anymore.<br > Afterwards， remembering this moment，<br >everything seemed to happen in slow motion. He<br >turns on his heei， strides back to the kitchen to<br >dispose of the tea， which he no longer wants. With a<br >groan wrung from deep within， he heedlessly drops<br >the papers on the table m and as though drawn by<br >
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