John frowned. "Chrissy!" he barked. "That will be enough of that kind of language. I'm not wrong about this and I think I can prove it." Oh reeaaallly..." Chrissy drawled. "I'd like to see that, Daddy. I really would."John thought for a minute. "All right. But you have to do whatever I say, okay?"Chrissy was puzzled. She always did what her father told her to. "What do you mean?" she asked warily."I think I can prove to you what boys want, and what that causes girls to want, but you'll have to do. She savoured each moment, dragging out little chores into lengthy processes that gave her time to think while her body undertook the mindless physical work. Her thoughts were thick with memories, moments distilled like aromatic oils until they were just the essence – a resounding emotion or a few fractured words. One day the man next door took it into his head to cut the grass on the front lawn and the smell of it, baking in the sun, set off a tidal wave of memories that left her aimless and. More

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