It's Easier To Die If Others Around

And They Shook Hands, Hit Each Other On The Shoulder, Then There Was Forty Feet Of Distance Between Them And Nothing To Do But Drive Away In Opposite Directions. Within A Mile Ennis Felt Like Someone Was Pulling His Guts Out Hand Over Hand A Yard At A Time. He Stopped At The Side Of The Road And, In The Whirling New Snow, Tried To Puke But Nothing Came Up. He Felt About As Bad As He Ever Had And It Took A Long Time For The Feeling To Wear Off.

Wonderful ... I Was Up All Night Reading It, Laughing And Crying Out In Horror.

It Is My Feeling That A Story Is Not Finished Until It Is Read, And That The Reader Finishes It Through His Or Her Life Experience, Prejudices, Worldview And Thoughts.

I Didn't Have A Chance To Buy You Anything," She Said, Then Held Both Closed Hands Toward Him. Uncurled Her Fingers. In Each Cupped Palm A Brown Egg. He Took Them. They Were Cold. He Thought It A Tender, Wonderful Thing To Do. She Had Given Him Something, The Eggs, After All, Only A Symbol, But They Had Come From Her Hands As A Gift. To Him. It Didn't Matter That He'd Bought Them Himself At The Supermarket The Day Before. He Imagined She Understood Him, That She Had To Love Him To Know That It Was The Outstreched Hands, The Giving, That Mattered.

Was Love Then Like A Bag Of Assorted Sweets Passed Around From Which One Might Choose More Than Once? Some Might Sting The Tongue, Some Invoke Night Perfume. Some Had Centers As Bitter As Gall, Some Blended Honey And Poison, Some Were Quickly Swallowed. And Among The Common Bull's-eyes And Peppermints A Few Rare Ones; One Or Two With Deadly Needles At The Heart, Another That Brought Clam And Gentle Pleasure. Were His Fingers Closing On That One?