.. great... something grandmother.”“Wait a minute!” I exclaimed as I held up my hands. “This isn’t one of those time loops, is it?.. where I...end up being my own grandpa... or great, great, great, great... something grandfather?”I could feel my Weird Shit Meter start moving toward eight and I really didn’t like it. But then she shook her head.“No,” she answered with her silvery laugh. “You are not expected to make love to her.”“Then who?” I asked rather heatedly.“The Queen, of course,” she. It was a single red rose in a bud vase to symbolize my love for her. It was also a reminder of the rose that was held together by faith and kept watered with tears during that tragic year apart. She still has that one dried and carefully saved just as she does with each year’s rose. Gently and carefully she places it on the nightstand beside the bed. Then with a gleam in her eye she asks if I am going to unwrap MY present. Of course she means herself. She has gained a few pounds and has a. More

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