She turns away. I come closer, slowly, and wrap my arms around her. I have her arms in an ‘X’ pattern and I hold them there. I hold her close to m... as she cries. She can’t move, and she continues to bawl in my arms. She probably saw a photo, a post, some sort of trigger. Or she could have just been thinking about high school, about him, about all the different ways he touched her, about all the pain he’s caused her, about all the pain that is still here, years later. About the pain she fears. " Pete, set a new fashion. Have you known Emma long?" Ages," I interrupted. "We even go away together on boating holidays andhe can dance the rumba." Dance away, Pete, I have a feeling I might not be able to cope with Emmain a jive, it's a full time job just walking with her, I never know quitewhere the journey may end, what surprises await around the next corner." You've not seen her jive before?" No, not even waltz." You're in for a treat, she's terrific, dances like a feather in a breezebut. More

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