When she regained hercomposure Christine bundled herself up against thewinter cold, locked the office and as usual on aChristmas Eve took the elevator...alone to the lobby ofan empty office tower, always the first to arrive atsix and last to leave at six.“Merry Christmas and have a wonderful weekend,” thedoorman said as she exited into the cold New Englandair.“Uh, yeah you too,” Christine grumbled back. Actuallynot really meaning it, as she mumbled in her mind,“Yeah. It’s too much. I’m whimpering inside, maybe outside, too. She makes tiny circles in my palms. Her fingers stroke mine, one at a time—base to tip—pulling me away from my self. Stop! No. No, don’t. Don’t stop—ever. I’ve never been touched in this way. I’m exposed. It’s frightening—and liberating. I ache when I think of all the beauty I’ve allowed to pass me by. A single tear drips onto the floor, and with it goes my fear. All the resistance, all the insecurities, all the worries suddenly seem. More

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