A smile floods my lips as I once again can feel her hand in mine, walking straight for the tree that we sat under. I slowly slide to the ground starin... up at the sky. I can feel her looking at me. But where is she? Why do I hope nothing more but to once again find her? My eyes slowly tear as I think of her kneeling in front of me staring into my eyes, her warm grey eyes going cold, my hands clutching hers when she pulls me closer, her lips find my forehead, then my nose, then my cheek, and. Striding purposely over to one of the red painted fifty-five gallon drum that served as waste receptacles at the flea market, Joe was on the verge of dropping the shopping bag containing the heels into its' crud encrusted maw when, all of a sudden, he thought better of it. Though the 'why' and the 'wherefore' eluded him, for some elusive reason that he could not even begin to fathom or comprehend, Joe could not muster the necessary wherewithal to part company with the heels. As unable to. More

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