I moved with him until I was bent over. We stared at each other’s lips and leaned in close. When our mouths finally met, we didn’t want to let go.... He moved over a little on the semi-large bed and I sat down beside him. Then, I laid sideways, facing him. I rubbed his shoulders and upper arm. I imagined all the times he must’ve used his arms to pull himself up the rock wall. I imagined the sunlight shining in his hair and the light sweat that must form over his body. And then, I imagined us. I knew a part of it was a sense of duty. Maybeanother part was I felt that I had earned the right to be here and whothe hell were they to deny me that right. Possibly, like the people onthe other side of the door, I was grieving, and one stage of grief isanger. What was a better place to be angry, than the place that hadkicked me out just for being me.I started to push the doorbell a third time when door started to swingopen and I took a deep breath. Just a head peaked around the side of. More

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