His eyes focused on what his fingers were doing, caressing her neck and cheek, willing her to understand the depth of feeling he had for her. Wishing ...e could transfer to her how much he loved her. Change. What is love? he considers now. Loving another means being willing to change those things within and without ourselves, to accept love over pain. For Her he was willing to change. Poetry was the smoke-filled air that made his chest ache, velvet were the sheets that could not house enough. Still, Em was out the door to school at about the same time so I figured I’d better get used to it. Pey’s school didn’t start till nine. I guess that meant Em would get home earlier, too.Molly was a big Irish redhead and I was in love from the moment I saw her. She was in her mid-fifties, I guess, and built like a brick. She was big but you’d never confuse her for fat. The first time she lifted me up to put the bedpan under my butt convinced me of that. She was strong as an ox. But her hair was. More

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