” ‘What? Damien who?’ Kate was wearing her please-don’t-be-a-complete-idiot-in-public face, which I was admittedly fairly familiar with. ‘Yo... know, classic 70s horror schlock, devil child, nuns hanging themselves.’ This comment earned me a disparaging sniff from a thin, gray-haired woman who appeared to be prying meaning from a concentric set of orange octagons that had been created with electrician’s tape and then torn up using a parallel set of long, razor-sharp implements—or perhaps claws, I. “When I stepped out, I actually opened your front door, so we both know you aren’t locked out. We also know you want me to notice how you look in that wet tee shirt. Since you went to all of this trouble to get my attention, I thought I should get yours. So, here’s your towel…take it.” He said inviting. Suddenly fear and intimidation washed over me as I pondered what I had gotten myself into. “Isiah, I really thought I was locked out and…” Suddenly he stepped even closer to me. Isiah was less. More

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