To my nineteen year old self, she seemed ancient, although I suppose she was somewhere in her late fifties to early sixties.My room was on the third f...oor of the old house, sort of an attic under the roof with sloping ceiling and two dormer windows. There were two overseas grad students on the second floor, who I rarely encountered, and Mrs. W. resided on the main floor. I was given a key to the front door so I could come in late without waking her. After a few weeks I could tell that the old. She managed a slight smile, then crossed the room and leaned onto the bed, right next to where I was sitting in my desk chair, her legs trailing off it to the floor next to her. Even with her serious look of nervous concern, Amanda was as gorgeous as ever. I had done my best to forget it, but her beauty was forever burned into my mind. She had always been the angel of my dreams."How have you been?" she asked, working with some effort to break the silence."I'm fine. You?" Stall. Think of. More

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