Rachel, What Do You Do? Put An

Rachel, My Itchy Witch," Al Said As He Tugged The Lace At His Cuffs. "we've Talked About This. You Simply Must Stop Collecting Nasty Little Men. How Many Do You Really Need, Love?

Do You Hurt Uncle Kisten', He Asked.(...) But Kisten Beat Me To It. “only My Heart, Audric,” He Said. “ms. Rachel Is Like The Sun. See Her Sparkling There With The Wind In Her Hair And Fire In Her Eyes? You Can’t Catch The Sun. You Can Only Feel Its Touch On Your Face. And If You Get Too Much Of It, It Burns You.

Happy Endings Were Never Handed Out. You Had To Fight For Them, Earn Them With Bruised Hearts And Sacrifices.

A Devious Spark Lit Through Al, Making Me Smile. One Way. It Costs Too Much, He Said. “there’s No Inflation In The Ever-after, Al.” Call It A Recession Then. One Way.

My God", He Whispered. What Have I Done To Her? He Thought, Humbled. The Spell Was Broken, But It Wasn't Sealed, And Her Soul Was Bare To Him, The Scars Of Her Tragic Past And Her Triumphs Over Pain And Her Aching Need To Find Her Place. He Just Wanted To Hold Her To Him And Tell Her It Would Be Okay, That She Had Survived And Was Beautiful.