Finally, after reading the same stupid paragraph in 'All Quiet on the Western Front', I ground to a halt. The guilt was just too much. Thinking of Mom...in her own room, hurt and alone, worried about me and at a loss for how to help me, was almost too much to bear. I forced myself off my bed and out of my room. I slowly walked to Mom's room, but hesitated beside the partially open doorway. I figured if she wanted to be left alone, she would have closed her door. I listened for a few minutes and. Either it was intentional or it wasn’t. Juan knew his physics, but he had also seen her get on. He was pretty sure that she’d seen himself get on too. In fact, from behind she even looks like the woman who bustled past on the way down from the street. Given she swung her head around and smiled, it was now all starting to cum [sic] together. This lead Juan to the conclusion that these were actions of intent. Not that it bothered him, it felt good. Too good in fact. But not even reading. More

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