They are poems. Can you say ‘po-em’?”“Poem.”“May I please have a poem?” she put in.“Cray, may I please have a poem?”He swung off his...back pack and extracted the sheet. “You have to be very careful and hold both our hands while crossing the street.”“Okay.”Craig handed over the poem, and Anne -- prompted by Al -- thanked him. He took the books she was carrying and put them with his in the back pack. When they got to the next street, Craig grabbed Anne’s wrist. She was still clutching the. I could not fall asleep and I did not feel Pierre either.Without doing it on purpose, I made a movement and my hand touched his.Whispering, he asked me if I wanted to cuddle with him, and his hand rested on mine.I did not plan that, and my heart started beating harder.On the other hand, he was what we call "a handsome guy" and then my curiosity took over.I knew only heterosexuality, but why not try something else if an opportunity such as this one arose?"Yes, why not," I whispered.Pierre stood. More

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