.so it is getting pretty dark....and sometimes when I walk home some of the neighborhoods are pretty scary...um...would you....um...." "Would you like...me to walk you home?" I say smiling, and feeling a little excited. She looks up at me and smiles and nods quickly. I follow her and we keep chatting/flirting all the way back to her place, a few blocks. At the door, she says,"so this is me, what do you think?" I can tell she is trying to sound more confident than she is. It is a cute city. Her board-paneled room felt like an old cistern though it smelled some better, more like leaf mold and dried flowers. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw worn curtains fluttering at the cracked dormer window and the remains of a log fire glowing in the shallow hearth. The yellow flame of small whale-oil lamp wavered by the bed which still showed the imprint of her hip place beside the turned back quilt. I wondered if she slept with the lamp aglow. My root stirred a bit more."Come," she. More

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