Belts. Knee high socks. Ruffled feathery god-knows-whats! No more of those granny undies for her, anymore! Anything for more toothpasty kisses! But no...hing seemed to break the spell. He just grew colder, meaner and more distant. SEX — that word became a part of someone else’s life, not hers, as she stayed up nights in her new bedroom and old study trying to think of how to go on. Sometimes, when she was really low, she slept on the warm rug with a blanket, next to the fire, and imagined people. "Rain pattering down. Thunder rumbling. Francis, uh, beachcomber? No, that's not right."I . . . .may have given him some extra." Dramatic thunderclap."For god's sake, Renee. Shit. Shit." The rain sheets increased, like you'd expect in a bad production of Hamlet. Or . . . Macbeth?"Don't panic. Go pump him full of coffee, and make sure he's mostly okay before you take him to the doctors tomorrow. We'll have to change the formula again." I'm sorry, Georgia. I'm all alone out here, and you're. More

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