It gets me hit on a lot, to which I usually brush off because the guy’s a total horny bastard (yet I still dance like this. Hm. Tease much?). But I ...njoy my dancing; it makes me feel strong, sexy, desirable. And I tend to get lost in my own little world. So when the music switched and Mag and I decided to take a break, I wasn’t expecting those hazel eyes to be turned on me, watching me as I headed back to the table. Once I was seated, Jack leaned toward me, speaking above the music so I could. He will breathe in peaceful rhythm beneath her smiling tear-streaked face and she will send up silent prayers for the unknown loved ones who morn, while she — amidst pangs of guilt — rejoices at the familiar sound of her husband’s gentle snores. Yes, these are good decent deserving people and my rush of jealousy towards them revolts me. What kind of person does this make me? Should I not rather be moved and inspired by the pure perfect love I see before me? I watch, as Dory places a tender. More

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