Also at the very least this whole situation was wrecking my ego. And seriously fucking up my brain. I wanted so badly to spend time with her. The only...I could, was to let her dress me up. To deny who and what I was. But, again, I had to be with her. Hear her laugh, listen to her voice. Part of me ignored my guilty feelings at dressing up. I'd rationalize it away. I wasn't doing anything wrong. She was making me do it. She was blackmailing me. But it wasn't true. We both knew it. For her it was. He was on his back, on the kitchen floor. His eyes drifted to the side, and to his horror, he saw the microwave oven in total disarray. Memories of the few minutes before the explosion came flooding back to him. His eyes drifted from the microwave oven to the kitchen wall clock. According to the clock he had been out for about thirty-five minutes or so. He felt funny, kind of tingly all over. Groaning slightly he rolled over on his stomach, and froze despite the fact that he had intended to. More

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