Everyone just kind of assumed that we were 'at it'. The truth was stranger. I hadn't touched her. We'd held hands and had the odd chaste goodnight kis... but that was that. She wasn't as shy now. She looked at me when we talked and we talked a lot. Sarah was interested in everything. She had a real knack of pinpointing the weaknesses in any of my carefully constructed arguments, whatever the subject. Yet she never made me feel small or ridiculed my little dreams. She'd just smile and touch my. Our alcoholic woman is lucky in one respect, her family is well-to-do, so they can afford to keep her isolated at home and hidden from the public. They do provide her with the whiskey she needs, but they don't dare let the world know of her illness. Most of our townspeople tend to mind their own business, so it is easy to keep her hidden, but sometimes things get out of hand. I would not even know that she exists except for an accident.Sarah is her name, I will use no more of it in this. More

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