I love my work, but, as in every profession, there’s always a physical consequence. I smiled when I heard him enter the bathroom and felt his callou...ed hands sliding over my own. Working hands, we both have working hands. We’ve both earned every scar, every callous for the sake of our craft. My hands have long lost anything feminine about them, but I’m strangely content by that – these hands can craft dreams out of metal and stones. “Hi baby,” he whispered in my ear as he rubbed my shoulder.. I poked her, nudged her, spoke to her, turned her part way onto her back, and finally shook her until she almost woke up, before it quieted down enough to sleep. When she did quiet down, I shared her state of unconsciousness for the rest of the night.I was in the shower the next morning, when the bathroom door opened and a bedraggled looking Constance stumbled in, looking like proof positive of life after death. Her somnambulant state tickled me, and I started to laugh without thinking, which. More

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