Her fingers trembled as they began to stitch it in the center of the ribbon. A single tear fell. It stained the white and pink cheeks of the material....Another joined it. And another. The spot was growing. Spreading. Just like the cancer that had stolen Nana away. A final stitch and she held the little dress up once more. ‘It’s beautiful,’ his voice was rough as he placed his large hands on her shoulders. ‘Perfect.’ He knew just the right words to say. He always had. ‘May I?’ he asked as he. Ron feigned surprise. "You mean you don't want me as a neighbor? Hmmm... maybe we should talk about this in a more appropriate setting?" His distaste at having to stand outdoors like commoner was very evident.*****Harris couldn't disguise his contempt for the sparsely furnished office - he was, after all, used to far more extravagant surroundings. "I don't understand your opposition to progress."The old woman sat stonily in her chair, refusing to take the bait. "I'm not opposed to progress. I. More

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