I am certain that she can feel my fingers gently toying with her thick red strands, or feel my opposite hand gently caressing her pale warm cheek. Yet...does she present that Mona Lisa smile because of my loving actions, or because of something in her mind? Does she dream, and if so, does she dream of me, of us? My eyes focus on her eyelashes. Long and thick and painted in darkest black, they flicker slightly in her sleep, tempting me, beckoning me, demanding my attention. When we had first met. Only a miniscule change from black to the darkest shade of grey before Donna’s eyes. “You keep your fucking voice down, woman, or you might have to start learning to use another mouth – on your throat this time. She sobbed and cried on but tried to keep it down. She could hear him ruffle and move around the room. Was he going through her stuff? Looking for money? In her bedroom?But then, his weight was upon her, all over again. She let out a small, startled scream. “I thought I told you to keep. More

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