So long as their souls were deeply and darkly tainted, she felt no remorse in killing them. She didn’t see any irregularities in the crowd, only the...typically self absorbed mass of people dancing around each other, doing their best to politely pretend like the other doesn’t exist. The dance of life she called it. It wasn’t until she rounded a corner that she noticed something that piqued her interest. She felt the faint hum of strong emotion and tried to focus on the source. She narrowed it. Now I am ‘the other woman’. I did not like it, but that is what I would be if I met Wendy again. All day Monday the irony of it all played upon my mind. An hour and a half before heading home on Valentine’s Day, a potted red mini-rose bush in a white planter with a red bow came to my desk. The large card read, ‘Katie, thank you for a memorable evening. You are a precious woman. The power of your sensuality is surpassed only by your generous heart. Within you is a volcano of passion seeking. More

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