"So," she said casually as we wandered aimlessly, as I unfortunately had no idea where my hostel was in this maze, up a relatively wide, busy street w...th where there was a market, and where offers to buy fruits and fish and vegetables and even meat were announced in almost surreal quietness. "So, you usually buy damaged slaves?" No, of course not," I replied hastily. "What's your name. Mine is-" First time, then. I should be proud, I guess. Honored, even." Look, I did not mea-" I am your slave. When Keisha was over at our house for a sleepover, Kirsten and I would continue our nightly ritual before bedtime. I'd lay down beside her and pretend to fall asleep. And then I'd start playing finger games with her... two or three of my fingers would pop up and be like a little animated character. No words were spoken, but I found a way to communicate with her. And there was lots of nose-stealing and tickling and leg and bottom pinching... that kind of stuff. And when Keisha was there, she. More

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