It was like kissing an anvil. Hester sighed. “This isn’t going to work,” she said.“Wait!” said Porphyria.“No,” said Hester, reaching for...her dress. “It won’t work. You don’t love me.”“Did you expect me to?”“No, but I expected you to be a little more convincing." Hester looked out the window. "Do you remember when my mother stood at this window and watched us play down on the rocks?”Porphyria blinked. “Yes. I suppose. We were there almost every day.” "Do you remember when your father took you. . well, queer was an out of date word. Gay? He snorted. What did the dresser have to be happy about? AIDS?But the boy stood there staring and the manager wondered if he should go over and say something. That particular mannequin had been dressed today in a silken ecru blouse, with a short, short skirt of woolen tweed in navy, with green and red plaiding stripes. She wore bone colored pumps and clutched a vinyl ecru purse to her plaster bosom. Her wig today was that hideous shade of red that no. More

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