”“Probably?”I nodded, then pulled a sweatshirt over my head, “Yes. I’m sorry.”“For what? You’ve never lied to me nor have you tried to...trick me. You’ve been nothing but honest.”“But?” I asked.She smiled, then pulled a fuzzy pink sweater over her head, “But nothing. I gave myself to you, freely, and completely, with the only condition being that you love me. Nothing about this situation is ideal, except for how much you, and everyone here, loves me.”“And above all things, have fervent love for. I checked the wallet in the coat and there was a little blue and green four paged book which had a royal crest and labelled National Registration Identity Card. Inside was a number and a surname: Marshall; Christian Name: John and an address. The address was Dura Street, this I knew where, but everything was so different now.I made my way up Erskine Street, crossed over Lyon Street which had houses both side of the street, not the Lyon Street I knew. Over Arthurstone Terrace, but now there were. More

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