He was in some pain, but it was manageable, now that the pressure was gone. His shirt, however, was hopelessly torn, and bloody to boot.Johnnie Sue st...ck her hand up in the air, like she was at school. When everyone looked at her she blushed and dropped her hand.“I was just thinking,” she said, still discomfited by what she had done, “Just the other day, Mamma gave me a whipping because I tore one of my shirts on some barb wire while I was climbing through the fence. Maybe you could say that’s. ’ He mumbled, one eyebrow raised, he was sizing me up. Uncomfortably, I shifted in my chair. This was the first time we had met since my exodus. Face to face was different than a quick e-mailing, more challenging and dangerous than a brief occasional phone conversation. This was real. Time had waged its war, each of us sporting its scars and spoils. Words that once carelessly flowed were now cautious and guarded. Innuendos perhaps lost in translation. ‘I’ve missed you.’ He said softly, his. More

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