Naw man. Why not? Because Im too busy testing out the new couch, he says as he jumps onto our small, yet quite comfy two seater leather couch. Whateve..., I say breathlessly. I head back down the three flights of stairs to my red, beat up, 1986 Honda Civic, where the last of our shit resides. As I struggle to hold the boxes and close the trunk, I hear a voice. Moving in? Now Im no poet or romantic of any sort, but the one word Id use to describe this voice would be angelic. And in case you were. Her resolve to keep working was gone. She still wasn’t used to compliments like this. She felt a tear of happiness come to her eyes, but squeezed it away quickly. Thank God for Hank. Thank God she finally met someone who appreciated her. She didn’t complain when Hank lowered one strap of her dress and kissed her bare shoulder. Nor did she complain when Hank slipped the opposite strap off and planted a dozen more kisses along the top of her back and shoulders. Her back arched involuntarily as. More

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