Do they remember me? Am I just a weak, rough memory for their minds to ponder over, as well? Am I just a wilted, discarded husk in a long since abando...ed airport? Sometimes I worry that I’ll never fly again. Sometimes I worry that the clouds will always waltz so high above me, their only contact being the occasional tears of pity they cry down on this ragged planet, and the husks of what once lived here. I can’t remember the last time I left this tent. I lie here, staring up. And up. And up.. "Here mom." I brought the newspaper I was holding with both hands up to give it back to mom. The backs of both my hands lightly touched her nipples. Nothing. She was like a statue.Tough to get a good hard on when you're wearing a jock, but I had one trying to break free. She wanted some. How much. Touching. Naked. Clothed. She couldn't actually want to go all the way. Just a hug. Yeah. There we go."I'm glad you're my mom, and that you're proud of me."I put my arms around her and. More

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