”“But not you,” Genzo counters. “This is all part of a plan, an agreement. George is only allowed to live for so long after. It’s Tabitha th...t needs to live her life.”George taps his foot and crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine, I’ll live as Tabitha. But it’s going to be on my terms.”“So be it,” Genzo says, pulling out a cigar from a little pouch on the counter. “It’s your life to live as you want. I’ve got my own and a beautiful lady waiting for me to lay it down on her again.” He hops off. Where do I begin? It started off great, sex like bunnies every day. Sometimes twice, even thrice. On the table, in the bathroom, in a public pool, on the rocking chair, even at the back of the church. Then it just fizzled out. Sex became a chore and that, ladies and gentlemen, is a fate worse than death. So much for trashy romance novels about happily ever after.We hardly saw each other. When we did, it was for a less-than-romantic television dinner. Wheel of Fortune became more interesting. More

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