“A hand closed over my wrist. I looked over, and there was Lilly, cast in moonlight and blue, hair snaking around her, a siren calling to me: 'come on.”

“Grace reached over and began stroking her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and let her drive me crazy.”

“I’ve come by, she says, to tell youthat this is it. I’m not kidding, it’s over. this is it.I sit on the couch watching her arrangeher long red hair before my bedroommirror.She pulls her hair up andpiles it on top of her head-she lets her eyes look atmy eyes-then she drops her hair andlets it fall down in front of her face.We go to bed and I hold herspeechlessly from the backmy arm around her neckI touch her wrists and her handsfeel up to her elbowsno further.”

“I held her tight, my hands coming up to wrap over her shoulders, wishing I could wrap myself around her heartache.”

“I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.”

“This is you." She pointed at the stick figure with enormous red curly marks and blue eyes.Did my hair really look like that? I ran a hand over my head, feeling a bit like Little Orphan Annie.”