There on his recently deceased wife’s side was that which he hunted. The .45 automatic lay there, the magazine removed, and the one round meant for...him that night rested atop of a piece of paper. Slowly, he walked to the side of the bed, and then sank to his knees as a silent tear trailed down his cheek. The paper was one he had buried with his wife just that morning. He put the paper in her hands, as they lay crossed over her heart, on it, a poem he found from an unknown author. I Miss You I. Dad, I'm not like that. I think I want to seem more grown up that I really am. For some reason I thought acting like I was the type to have sex with a bunch of people would make you think I was more of an adult than today showed I am. I want you to know, for certain, that your daughter is not a skank."I held up my hand to stop Kasey's narrative."I don't think what you do in your private life is relevant to this conversation or any other we might have in the future," I replied."But it is, Dad,". More

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