Someone who'd give me emotional support. Someone who'd care.Mercy? Yes, I could certainly use a little mercy, and with a capital M at that.A week late... I called and asked her out to dinner.She was a sympathetic listener and before I knew it, I was pouring out the story of my life. She didn't condemn, judge, or even give advice. She just listened... and when the tears began rolling down her cheeks, she reached out and took my hand. Her touch was soft... and comforting.I'm still not sure how it. He took off up Aleva Heights which is a cork screw road clinging to an outcropping ridge overlooking Honolulu, some beautiful vantage. I hung on behind him and leaned the wrong way on curves, gripped with fright white knuckles all the way remembering my crash in the mainland. He was a little upset for my not helping balance the gyro of cornering but I was nerves shot after that fast ride.I never had considered ever-ever riding a motorcycle again. But he was persistent.He swung me over to the. More

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