“Ivy?” I called as I went belowdecks, fear winding between my soul and reason when she didn’t answer. The silence ate away at my hope like bitter acid, drop by drop, breath by breath.”

“Sometimes your nearness takes my breath away; and all the things I want to say can find no voice. Then, in silence, I can only hope my eyes will speak my heart.”

“Come on.” He dropped a heavy hand on my back, between my shoulder blades, and my breath stalled.I was effectively silenced by his touch. Perhaps that was why he did it. Not many people would blame him and probably wished they wielded that kind of power over me.”

“Held his heart in his hands,And ate of it.I said: "Is it good, friend?""It is bitter - bitter," he answered;"But I like itBecause it is bitter,And because it is my heart.”

“I would pick them when they bloomed. And when she called me home for supper, I'd place them in her hair and the contrast would take my breath away.”

“He panted over me, winded by his own absurd lecture. The stench of his alcoholic breath stung my nose. Again I didn’t answer. I hoped he’d tire out and end his speech and hobble back to the living room without touching me. Such hopes were unlikely, as was the case this time. “Answer me, you good-for-nuthin’ wench!” The pain bit instantly as his hand connected with my cheek. I shook my head in answer to his crazy questions, feeling a rise of warm tears.”