His face is unshaven. He has the beard of a much older man, not a college boy of nineteen or twenty. He presses harder.?It’s not time to try sitting... up just yet, suicide girl,? he says with just the faintest hint of a chuckle in his voice. ?You’ve had a rough go of it.? It’s an undoubtedly American voice, with just the faintest hint of British in the vowels and phrasing like ?You’ve had a rough go of it.? He presses your torso down into the welcoming mattress so gently, gently but. Don't get sulky, or I'll put you outside!"I looked daggers at him, wishing I could tell him just how much I hatedthis.And true to his word, Art Put Me Out!I had to spend the Afternoon bound in a ridiculously skimpy, sun-suit,arms bound at my back, tending his Flower Beds with a tiny weed-puller inmy mouth while he and Viv looked on and laughed. "Do a good job," Heencouraged. "And perhaps I'll let you and Viv shower together!" Oh no!" Viv cried in mock horror. "You wouldn't make me shower. Her slightly long face is framed in some wisps of her pinned up auburn hair. Combined with her fair complexion and some freckles on her cheeks make her quite the attractive appearance.She is standing only two metres in front of you, holding a wooden buckets with water in each hand. Her light green summer dress reaches to her knees and has a white inlay across her upper torso. It hugs her thin body quite nicely. Her calves are covered in bisque colored socks and she is wearing a pair of brown. Wondering what life would have been like in my magical parallel universe, if I had gone to California with Chris.I’d shared with my wonderful daughter about the guilt and confusion I felt at this pining for love lost. Confusion at how much I still yearned for Chris and our love, while at the same time so happy that Dave and I were still together and stepping forward better each day. Guilty at having these feelings for another man, another man who’d almost cost me my marriage.All through this.