You’re supposed to have a nice time. We can take care of all that in the morning.’ Paul leaned down and kissed her on the lips. It wasn’t passio...ate, just an affectionate pass to convince her to loosen up. Marge returned the kiss, but wasn’t deterred. She handed Paul a beer. ‘Shoo! Shoo!’ she waved her arms at him. ‘You go out on the porch and let me get to work.’ Paul obediently trudged out alone to the porch and settled into a chair and sipped his beer. He wasn’t used to being ‘shooed’. He. I know there will be consequences for my actions, but this feeling is incredible. This passionate irrationality, this fury and madness, they’re like a sinful feast for the soul. I can finally indulge in desire and emotion and drive for something both pointless and meaningful. Cyrilo’s research could have led to my ultimate wish being granted, a wish that I’ve carried with me through life and death, and I was robbed. If that doesn’t matter, what does? When will I ever feel something like this. More

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