The artist. I don't know her name. She's down here in the park nearly every lunchtime, drawing intently as I watch. I nibble quietly on my salad, slow...y letting myself relax after a morning of petty slights at work. "Get us some coffee, Jane." "Jane, this needs to be copied before the client gets here." "Hey, looking good today, Jane, got a special date tonight?" Even the guys who know I'm married leer at me. I don't know her name, but I know her every part as though I've been studying nothing. Be careful you don't mess up your hair." Okay, Harriet. Oh, I wish Pete was here."She was talking over her shoulder as she came into the room. Ginger was shucking her top. When it came over her head, she was staring right at me about three feet from where I was sitting on the bed. I had my arms open and Ginger came into them. I was smothered with kisses while Ginger was screaming, laughing, and crying all at the same time. The door opened and Freda, whom I didn't know, was looking at us. Mom. More

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