I noticed the pattern was the same as on the blankets from the sleigh. We lounged, sipped, smoked a bit and chatted. Someone sharper or more experie...ced than I can explain the human nature of our after-sex conversation. Protocol might have been to compliment or at least comment on what had gone on in our bed. Instead, talk was more like on the ride home after a great dinner or concert or game. I refused to reflect on how much time we spent in the tub. Usually, I can stand it for a quarter to. She'd been in the hospital for a month because she'd been too weak for a transplant when the last heart was available.God help me, one night as I saw how fragile and belabored Cindy looked in her bed, I actually wondered if I could commit murder. If it had been anyone but Cindy, I might have carried through. God might forgive me; Cindy would forgive me, but she'd never continue with me and I couldn't face that.Through all this time Cindy's friends were there. The hospital had to set strict. More

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