*****
I hate when a song, or a melody sticks in my head. It's not as if I am a musican or anything. I'm not talented at ANYTHING. I am so envious of people who know where they are going, or what they intent to do, or are already there...complacent with the knowledge they that they followed the rules, they paid their dues, and hence, VIOLA! the good life beacons....

I never followed any rules..except to be as kind as I could be...except to laugh if something was funny, except to help when anyone asked...

Probably why I am going to be evicted in exactly 10 days.

My eyes darted to the top shelf of his bookcase, filled with Star Trek action figures and stuffed animals. These were the stuffings of his past, his own personal teddy bear of memories. Did he know his vulnerabilities were so transparent? I didn't think so, as I stroked his long, pale leg laying next to mine.

Chapter One

The only clothes I wore were his arms around me. I was cold, but I didn't tell him. His skin warmed me on the hard wooden chair we shared. 3 a.m., work at 9-what was I doing listening to his songs on an old tape-recorder in his shabby bungelow? All I felt was love.

*****

I had to stop cleaning. I do that, you know, when my mind races and my blood boils and I don't want anyone to know that I am not normal. With each shiny surface comes a victory., an immediate signpost of "I'm OK".

Why, as I scrubbed, did I hear a faint song?