His lips pursed while holding my gaze, containing a laugh. It was infectious. I felt myself grinning, then showed him, peeling back the tape that held...a gauze over my stitches. ‘Does it hurt?’ ‘Only if you fucking touch it.’ I slapped his hand away and we both snickered. He was giddy that I was alive, and I soaked it up. He just turned up in that room and suddenly everything felt better. Some things, at least. I had a whole mess in my head to sort through, but one thing at a time. ‘Did you. Her hair is a rich harvest gold blonde, and her eyes are a seawater blue. Her hair would fall to her shoulders in curls and waves. Her breasts are a size D, but they are firm, and her skin is as white as the snow."I watch as Dave began to draw the picture of my ideal woman. He drew with what looked like a 5" twig sharpen to a point, but there was no charcoal or lead point; there was no ballpoint or nib for ink. Yet this twig made not just black lines and curves, but as Dave spoke the black. More

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