"Good night, Master. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said. Senior year started with a whimper. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. I might as well try to build a ladder to heaven.
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