She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. Coolly and gingerly, she kissed it as it stood at its hard angle from his body. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. . "You show more consideration to the feelings of a hempen widow, than there is any need to show. “When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home.
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