Reading comments people posted about my stories made me feel exciting, and made me feel good.Then, a few months ago, after one of our usual brief roll...togethers before sleep I returned from the bathroom dressed in my nighty to find Mike still sitting up with the light on. “Read to me,” he said.“What?”“Read some of what you’ve been writing lately to me,” he said again.“What...wait...how?” I stammered and slipped under the safety of the covers.“I know about it.” He said, “I’ve been reading the. She wanted a moment. Just a moment, or two, or however several she could manage, to just sit peaceful and still, and let the fire lull her. It was an old comfort. A touch stone, really. The flames were familiar, reliably steady, and ever-changing. The dancing interplay of orange and yellow and red, twining one about the other, contracting to not but an ember before swelling to a rushing burst of heat and energy, an inferno waiting to be released if only it could find more fuel, more substance,. More

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