His jaw went slack at the sight.The room was freshly painted a deep baby-blue tone, accented with rich purples and greens. On one wall stood his old c...ib, freshly painted with a new mattress and layette. A mobile hung over the crib. It was one of clear crystal hearts that reflected and cast a rainbow prism of dancing lights on the walls and ceiling. He recognized Mrs. McPherson's old rocker that used to sit on the front porch when she was still alive. He hadn't even noticed it was missing until. Thank God for the sun, he spent most of his time topless. I used to gaze from afar, watching tiny beadlets of sweat run down in between his pecs and through the ridges of his six-pack and round his navel. It was torture, but the good kind. It was my reward for the day. But I knew I couldn't have him. He was the archytypal straight guy, girls hanging off him, always goofing around in class. He had everybody in the schol hanging on his every word adn he loved it. I couldn't have him. I wanted him. There she was my fantasy old doll, she greeted me and kissed on my cheeks and told me that my mom had informed her that I would be staying with her for a couple of days. She told me to comfort myself and in her room as she doesn’t get enough time to arrange another room for me. While I was walking towards her room I looked backwards and saw her that she was much prettier and sexier than I last saw her month ago. She was wearing a saree with a pink blouse and her bras were clearly visible. Her. ‘Madeleine, I’m here. You need to talk to me . . .’ But she is gone, drifting in silence. He holds her face, kisses her forehead again. He looks into her eyes, watches as the blackness of her depression envelopes her, watches as she withdrawals from the world of the living. _____________________________________ She is sitting in a wheelchair on a small concrete patio, a nurse at her side. The air is much cooler now, the sun lower in the sky. She looks around at the mauve colored brick walls of.
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