‘Hannah, I…I don’t look the same anymore,’ he said. His eyes held trepidation, and that was never an emotion he directed toward me. ‘There�...s a lot of –‘ I stopped him with a gentle finger across his lips, and held his gaze with mine. ‘Ssshhh, baby,’ I said tenderly to him. ‘Chris, I love you with all my heart. Under these clothes,’ I pressed my palm gently over his chest, ‘You will look just like you did, because you’ll still look like my husband.’ His hand released mine, but not without some. He was an iron-faced man in black robes, his arms held high, leading them in song. They clapped and jumped and shook like the Holy Spirit was upon them. Some babbled incoherently. I reckoned they were speaking in tongues, though it sounded like horseshit to me.I spotted Happy, curly, dark-brown hair swaying about her shoulders as she moved to the music, a look of worshipful ecstasy painted on her face. Imagine that, the prude could smile. Her face was actually pretty when she wasn't frowning.. More

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