He had reached down to grab Dana's head clutching her hair in a tight fist. He cinched it between his fingers painfully tight. She looked up at him in...fear and, maybe somewhere buried, a little hope. He felt his other hand rise. He was ready to slap her. He wanted to beat the sadness from her. She didn't deserve to be sad. The killers shouldn't cry at the funerals. His hand raised, the muscle in his neck twitched, the tendons in his shoulders and forearms readied for the signal. And then his. And I could still take my time going home, as it was still several days before I had to return to work.By the way, I was 52 years old at the time, a teacher on spring break. I was not as wild as other spring breakers, but I had my moments. Okay, not the sex part I had read and seen about on videos. But I did my share of drinking. As a matter of fact, my last night I had had quite a bit and, even though I was only a few hours into my return trip, already I was considering places to stop for the. More

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