It had been taken at the dance last Spring.“Want to make love in my bed? It’s never been used for that!” she giggled.“I would love to make lov... to you, Joyce Abbadelli!”“Slow and sweet, please.”“Of course.”She drew the curtains and lit a candle on her desk, turned on some music, and turned off the light. She moved some stuffed bunnies from her bed, turned down the sheets, and began removing her clothes. I removed mine as well, and we climbed into her twin bed and pulled the comforter over. The middle hitters were all about muscle. They knew they were good. They just KNEW that no pitcher could beat them, and swaggered to prove it to each other.Their front of the order hitters never tried to be like the other guys. They knew they were in The Show because they did their thing well. Trying to be something else was a fast ticket to obscurity.I created a lexicon in my head, cataloging all the incidental things I noticed, and concentrated on keeping it all organized. My concentration. More

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