There are stories I've told myself long enough to be real felt them in my bones and know them to be yours as they cling to each other likie a man and a woman who have years of stories that need to continue and for reasons of death like passing moonlight on old shoes must be told as steps in the dark on the way to the bathroom real and ok because the love is in the bed sleeping and you could again fill the indented space he left with the memory of his stomach and large chest against your back and his breathings loud enough to be yours Marcelene I mosca