That faint smell of wildflowers again. She asked, “Do ye find me comely, Tom?”I allowed my eyes to rove across her trim body, and then back to her...face. “Absolutely beautiful,” I responded truthfully.She put the now-empty glass down on the coffee table. “Mayhap...” she continued, “ ... there is something else I do miss.”“Um...” I began, and then she was kissing me. I was surprised, but I returned the kiss. Her lips tasted of honey and strawberries.I realized that I had missed kissing. I had. During those weeks, it gradually occurred to me how little I actually knew about Liz (and how little she undoubtedly knew about me) in some aspects. For example, I could describe her favorite articles of clothing and most-used figures of speech in some detail, but couldn't begin to tell you her favorite singer, color, or movie. I could explain what she was working on and what she wanted to be ten and twenty years from now, but not her favorite book or poet. And it wasn't a problem with me. That. More

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