It was her lover who had created the landscape she had taken for granted. He had worked so hard to make everything look just right and she had never t...uly appreciated it until now. She always appreciated that jobs, even the lowest, had to be done by someone but she had never thought someone as kind and passionate as Ethan would be one of them. She had viewed the “worker bee” jobs, as she called them, as those for the population who were undereducated or unmotivated to do anything else. Ethan. Dad squatteddown in front of me to get a better look at things. It wasdifficult forcing the urine out but I managed to do it. Then I didsit down on the seat and asked Dad to pee onto my chest andstomach. He protested, saying what a strange thing to ask for, butI could tell by his expanding penis that the idea had caught hisimagination. He couldn’t do it for the longest time but finally hegot a drip, then a trickle, then a decent stream coming out. Itfelt strange and hot and wonderful. Either way, I want to be with you.”“I’ll cook right now. There is plenty of time.”He stepped over to the fridge as I told him what I wanted. Today would be French toast and sausage with honeydew melon. I cooked it up while Jack cut the melon for us. I made him two and me one. Along with the sausage and melon, we had plenty to eat.After praying, we took our first bites. He said, “This is at least as good as the first time. I think the sausage might be a better match for French toast.” We. He almost killed me.Then he killed himself.No. I killed him.I know. I have no right to live on. But I do.I could annoy you with repentance and remorse, but I won't. Not because I don't honestly feel it. I do feel remorse, about ten tons of it and they all weigh on my heart.But there is no point, is there?My love is dead. George is gone. So is every dream I ever had. I carelessly and thoughtlessly threw them away. I betrayed and killed the one good thing I'd carried within me — George's.
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