I rolled back inside—reluctantly rolled back inside—the room leaving the door open for him to come in. He did, come in that is. I spun around in m... chair to face the man.“So?” I sneered.“Sam, there is no easy way to say this...” He paused.“What?” I said.“Sam your dad is real sick. Sam he’s dying,” he said, and he looked down.I had no doubt that the man knew what he was talking about. I also had no doubt that what he said was true. My daddy was dying.Silence reigned for some minutes, some long. Everything felt wrong, but at least the time of day was apparent. They'd... they'd been going at it all afternoon, evening... night... and the morning of the next day. But... more than that... something was terrible, impossibly wrong. The hand raised to the light was slender, delicate, and feminine. No... that... that doesn't make sense.The tingle... the sensation of swelling... bloating in the chest... that didn't make sense either. That hand, that incongruous, delicate hand came to rest... on. More

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