We went back and did it all again, word perfect, including tearing her shirt open and breaking the cheap bra underneath getting to that point.Michael:...I guess who has the can opener ... has the power?Amy: (snapping her shirt back together) Give that back to me Michael?"(Hesitatingly, I threw it at her)Amy: It doesn't have to be a power struggle, Michael. Here, I'll make a peace gesture ... we share the can opener. (She picked up a can, opened it, handing me a piece of sliced peach from. She shook her head and tossed it back where it was."Kin y'sew?" she demanded, looking about as if expecting a crowd to gather any minute."Some," I told her, "like any soldier." You don' look like no soldier. What regiment?" she demanded."Hush," I said. "I'm in t'other army, Washington's." Lord a'mighty," she said. "You ain't!"I nodded and got her started toward my basement hideaway where I lit a candle and found the landlady's meager sewing kit. She pulled off the top of her dress and wrapped. More

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