At least no one had ever mistaken me for a boy while I was growing up. Certainly no one would now.Neeka did the honors, since her penmanship was much ...etter than mine. A point that I had conceded willingly since it meant she would have to do all of the work autographing the photos.Sylvester took the photo like the ink was still wet. I started to tell him it was OK, but I was getting better and holding my tongue, so I just watched him carefully lay it flat between two pages of a sketchbook and. It was him. Bryan. Sometimes if she tried real hard, she could almost hear his voice. Sometimes it was the high and sweet Southern twang of that ten year old little boy that had run off the bullies on the playground when she was just a first grader. Other times it was the deep and soothing caress of the lover that had held her just that one night. But either way, it always brought her the comfort and wisdom she sought. And this time was no different… ‘What can it really hurt, Key-key?’ She. More

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