She was dripping wet. Her jacket zipper wasn’t done up. She stared at me, calling me all the arseholes, and I deserved every word. I stood there loo...ing at her as water dripped from her face and she calmed a little. At that moment, the bus passed and sent her off into another tirade. That was the last one that served her village and the next one was another hour, and that didn’t go all the way and she would have to walk three miles.I took a bit more abuse then told her I was sorry of course and. Italmost seemed that they were a part of these foreign arms. The wristswere healthy, thin and the hand, unmistakably feminine. They could notbe mine. My blood froze when I turned these hand around. A faded redbloch shaped like a bag of potatoes was visible on the backside of theleft hand. I had that ever since I fought Pete Mayfield in fifth grade.These were my hands. Suddenly, I truly came into being. With raggedbreaths, I dared myself to look down. Cleavage were my first sight.Breasts.. More

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