"Forgive me, please—" Patrice said."Always, always, always."Kristen kissed her thighs, her crotch. Dark damp splotches grew in the denim. The force ...f the emotion was irresistible, and so was Kristen's grip as she hauled Patrice onto her back, pinning her down and dripping tears as she kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, her lips.Her hand went up beneath the sweatshirt."No, baby, your mother—" Fuck her."Their tongues, meshing, cut off conversation for the moment — the fullest and yet most. This meadow is just for picnics and gathering wildflowers. I'll quit my job teaching the classics to spoiled rich kids who only like Macbeth for the wrong reasons. I'll become a writer full time, and you'll take that job teaching art at the summer camp and run a little gallery the rest of the year.We say that every summer. And every fall, I go back to school and you go back to the office and we put our true lives on hold for another ten months. Our true life is here, in this meadow, having. More

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