He carried her to bed, dried her tears and told her a story. Downstairs Mother was still ranting, something about the house being a dump. After her fa...her tucked her in and left, her mother's voice rose again and she buried her head in the pillow."Go away, ' she whispered. "I hate you."The image faded and she stood quickly, moving to the lighthouse she put her face against its' rough surface. The cold of the stone felt good on her flushed skin. Her eyes felt gritty, she hadn't slept for days.. I had attended an opening the night before and had stayed with some clients drinking wine, talking business, boring myself but sticking it out to the last. When I got home Michael was asleep but snoring loudly from a cold he had picked up a few days before. Despite the wine, I found it difficult to fall asleep, listening to his noise, waiting for the wheeze. When it was time to rise, my mouth was dry, my eyes sore and I had stayed in bed too late to shower. I can’t say it was lust at first. More

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