He nodded almost imperceptibly. Anna stood and wrapped her arms around him. Neither said anything, but Mark could feel her torso shudder to hold back ... sob.Wellswood returned. As he shut the door behind him, he saw that Anna was sitting at the vanity. She had undone the small braids at her temples. She was combing her long red tresses and weaving them into a French braid. She had the emerald butterfly clips on the table. Pulling her hair back and braiding it down the top of her head caused her. As we lay there catching our breath... he said to me that I should write a book. Now at first this caused me to laugh. But as we talked a bit more I became intrigued with the idea of commiting some of my adventures to writing. So after some thought, I decided it might be worth a lark. So here we go. I'll give it a shot and if I get good feedback, I'll continue. If not, nothing lost anyway. These stories will not be in any chronological order but rather just what I happen to recall or feel. More

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