He takes the largest hairbrush, my favorite, and exits. The list of grievances is getting longer, the conflicting feelings getting more confusing,...the hand on the clock behind me moving much too quickly. Did I trade lonely for inconvenienced? Have I become less myself just because somebody else is using my favorite hairbrush? Why can’t I just stop thinking about all this crap, get finished and knock this day out? Come on, I can do it. “Why are you such a bitch this morning?” His. We laid there for a few minutes, re-living what we had done and how wonderful it had been. She said she had occasionally thought about us this way, but didn't think I would be interested because I talked about boys so often. I told her I didn't know what came over me but was thankful it did, I loved it all so much and didn't want it to stop. She said she didn’t either.That three-day weekend was a major turning point in our lives! We became acknowledged lovers and enjoyed intimacies I had never. More

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