He took my hand. I tagged him. He leaned over and kissed my mouth. I didn’t tag him. His tongue played inside my lips and teeth, and filled my mouth...with its warmth. I sucked on it and kissed back, but I continued to let him lead. Then he straddled me above my shoulders and began to move his wand over my face, my cheeks, my hair, my closed lips. I closed my eyes and felt the soft swipes over the sensitive skin of my nose, my eyelids, my forehead. He was being very creative, and had caught the. Lars pulled me to the doorway of the chapel and there, flanked by my blonde posse, people stopped to offer me condolences as they left. He explained people needed a focus for their condolences. They treated me like I was his widow. Sometimes it was embarrassing to imagine what they must have thought but everyone was polite. Rhonda stopped and held my hand for a long moment while tears streamed down her cheeks. Eventually, she pointed at the picture she’d painted and just mouthed, “Thank you,”. More

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