Only A Group Lack Of Imagination Could

Eric Was Holding My Hands, And I Was Digging My Nails Into Him Like We Were Doing Something Else. He Won't Mind, I Though, As I Realized I'd Drawn Blood. And Sure Enough, He Didn't. "let Go," He Advised Me, And I Loosened My Grip On His Hands. "no, Not Of Me," He Said Smiling. "you Can Hold On To Me As Long As You Want.

It Was Like Being Around A Particularly Irritating Two-year-old.

You Catch More Flies With Honey Than You Do With Vinegar.

No, I Like You Alive And Warm And Wiggling.

Could I Tell Them I Was Sorry Their Loved One Was Dead, When He’d Tried To Kill Me? There Was No Rule Of Etiquette For This; Even My Grandmother Would Have Been Stymied.