She opens a spot, casting a bring red light over me. She turns on the camera while typing some things on her computer on the side.“Are we… are we ...aking a video?”“Uh-uh,” she doesn’t look at me, she’s setting something up. “Are you hard?”I’m taking by surprise by her question but, after checking, “N-no.”“Hm,” she looks at me pensively and nonchalantly removes her turtleneck. It reveals her small, pale body, with her breasts contained by a red brassiere. I can’t look away.She slowly walks. Nothing really. I kept a journal for years. It always calmed me. Made me feel at peace, you know? Well, silly me, of course you would know. Brain smiled back and asked, If it made you feel good, why dont you still write? Rachael became very quiet. I stopped when my husband died. I just didnt seem to have anything to say. Brian leaned forward and placed his hand on hers. Have you ever written about him? His death? Your lives together? You might find it helps. She slowly pulled her hand away.. More

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