The opening was tight, and he entered gently and slowly, and like a virgin, I took him in and welcomed him, and somehow, it was the first time, becaus... he had not taken before I had asked. And I cried tears of gratitude. The next day we went to my sister’s art studio and painted. I loved the colors he splashed across his canvas, and in his truck outside the pizza place we went for lunch, I gave him a card bearing two cherubs on the front, one with angel wings and the other with butterfly wings,. And I feel breathing on my neck. As I comprehend this fact, my blood runs cold and I freeze. The person is unmoving. The breathing is deep and even, relaxed. Who is it? The horror stories I’ve listened to come to mind, bringing with it images of Skinwalkers. Taking a deep, quiet breath and reasoning with myself that if it’s a Skinwalker, I’m already dead, I steel my resolve and slowly start to extricate myself from my blankets and bed. I want to be sure of who it is before I wake them. I slowly. More

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