His hand trails to the back of my back. His touch soft like a c***d's blanket. In him I have found a companion, he knows me like the back of his hand....It seems like it was just yesterday that he was sitting down at the old coffee shop in the city sipping his black coffee when I accidentally dropped my purse and like a gentleman he picked it up and offered to take me home. His eyes blue like the sky I couldn't resist but to steal a kiss. His lip moved gentle his hand right side of my lower back.. .. albiet that the direction was only towards whatever quarter of the compass to which I'd pointed Lucille's grill!Her rusty - trusty flathead, straight-6 cylinder block carved paths through my twenty-year-old reality that I could never have imagined... ... like my entanglement with the daughters of the local chief of police.My oldest friend at the time was a high-school drop-out named Andrew. We had found common-ground and an affinity for discourse back when we were both in our Junior year.. More

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