And To Us, We're More Married Than

Let Me Go!” I Snarl At Him, Trying To Wrest My Arm From His Grasp. “i Can’t,” He Says.

He’s Dozed Off Again, But I Kiss Him Awake, Which Seems To Startle Him. Then He Smiles As If He’d Be Happy To Lie There Gazing At Me Forever.

Gale Is Mine. I Am His. Anything Else Is Unthinkable.

I'll Tell Them How I Survive It. I'll Tell Them That On Bad Mornings, It Feels Impossible To Take Pleasure In Anything Because I'm Afraid It Could Be Taken Away. That's When I Make A List In My Head Of Every Act Of Goodness I've Seen Someone Do. It's Like A Game. Repetitive. Even A Little Tedious After More Than Twenty Years. But There Are Much Worse Games To Play.

Even If Times Got Bad, He Would Never Again Deny Himself The Possibility That The Future Might Be Happy Even If The Present Was Painful. He Would Allow Himself Dreams.