She put the tray and her glass on a small table beside the chair and turned around to sit down. It was only then that I realised that her floor-length...dress was slit down the right side. I don't mean a slit from ankle to knee, nor even from ankle to mid-thigh. No, her dress was split right the way up to her the hip. Sara sat down on the chair slowly. I tried to fight it, but my eyes were glued to her long legs as she slowly crossed right over left. The material to the lower side of the slit. Trust. I hold it carefully and nest it in the softest gossamer tissue, placing it with infinite care in the most protected vault of my heart, lit like a treasure in my private gallery.Why are we weeping? I have no idea, but somehow our communication is more profound than mere words can express. I wonder if talking will break the spell, yet there is so much I long to say. All afternoon, while getting ready, I've been practising the words I'm going to use; taking such care over my face, my eyes,. More

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