The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. She threw the bags of marijuana and a tiny bag of white powder he had in the sewer, unfortunately they were his only worldly possessions. "No offence, I hope, my dear Mrs. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. Whether they are loved or unloved has no bearing upon this desire to test their wings, to try this new adventure, to take this leap into the dark. He slid out of her. But it is all very different. “YOU had to come in. ” “You are,” he answered unconsciously.
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