My thoughts travel back in time, to that last day that turned into one endless night, to the heartache I tried to quell after lowering my Anne to her ...rave, the reality I woke to when I found the wound had healed. She leads me down a narrow hall, through a door, into her sparsely decorated bedroom. Awkwardness makes her movements unsure, unsteady. She turns and tries to laugh through it but its of little use. Her ardor faded just enough for her to consider things like being committed to a. She had to find the slot byfeel. Finally, inserting the card, she couldn't get enough purchasewith her long and ringed nails to pull the card free. Bus drivers whowere familiar with her took the pass from her and inserted itthemselves to stay on schedule.Making her way down the narrow bus aisle without tit smacking anyonewas another challenge. Usually, she just repeatedly squeaked breathlessapologies and hoped nobody got too mad about being struck by hercolossal rack. Women could be especially. More

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