“Good, Matt,” Clara said softly as we completed a round trip without losing the pillow to gravity. She patted my chest a few times. “Not bad.”She handed me the pillow and went to the stereo. The music had gone silent during the last round trip. After she flipped the LP, a slow melody started playing, infused with a sad beauty. Clara sighed with satisfaction.“Ah. Invierno Porteño. It will do. Shall we try it again in dance hold?” she asked as she came near again.“With the pillow?”She laughed dismissively as she flicked the pillow into the dark corner of the room. I put my arm around her back again and tried to lead her through the ochos in the close hold.“Eyes, Matt. And remember what we’ve learned with the pillow.”It was even harder to maintain my eyes on hers when her arms were also wrapped around my body and her legs kept brushing against mine. Without the pillow, our faces and bodies were a few inches closer. I realized I was craning my neck backwards. To not do so would. Surprisingly, there was a poverty of folks performing stupid human tricks, accompanying a deficit of coughs, colds, and miscellaneous sick folks to cure. So, again, I came home early. This time, they asked for volunteers to go home. (“Me! Me! Me! Oh, MeMeMe! Me! I’ll go home!”) Evidently, the boys had another sleep over at their sister’s (this was really becoming A Thing!), and it appeared that Annie figured it would provide another opportunity for happy, fun, times, with Lance.Once I got home, it sounded as if one of the parties was not altogether enjoying their “happy, fun times”, as I heard crying, and moaned entreaties as I entered the door. Recalling my last such surprise entrance, I released the safety on my Colt, and crept toward the source of the sounds. Peeking around the jamb of my bedroom door, I beheld what appeared to be Lance, with a figure on her knees before him. I heard Annie pleading with Lance to stop, to release her, to stop it, because he was hurting her. Another.
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