A necropolis, a city of the dead, not a catacombs or ossuary resting places for bones and the remains of the dead, but a city where the dead or undead...reside. Which was fine by me, something inside me said, I was dead. Part of me had decided that it didn’t matter whether I lived or died that night. Life had gone sour, problems seemed to be lying in wait for me at all turns. I had just gone through a bitter divorce and no matter how hard I tried I had written nothing of any quality for months.. "Do you remember the very first time we held hands?" I asked. She nodded. "I remember thinking, 'this is my friend Cassie's first time at a party and she's scared.' I was scared the year before. It was my first time at a party and I wasn't even sure why I'd been invited. Either Whitney or Rachel held my hand almost all the time. Joanne told me once that holding hands was way more intimate than having my arm around a girl. When my arms are around you, like they are now, it's really just me. More

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