Eric turned to me, kissed me on the lips very lightly, and looked at my face for a long moment. “He’ll spare you,” Eric said, and I understood he wasn’t really talking to me but to himself. “You’re too unique to waste.” And then he opened the door.

I gripped the stapler even harder and felt like a fool planning to battle a crazy man with a stapler that even, I suddenly remembered, contained no staples. Well, strike that line of defense.

All the pictures on the walls, they all white as lilies and smiling like alligators.

We could go back to your house. I can stay with you always. We can know each others bodies in every way, night after night. I could love you. I could work, you would not be poor. I would help you.

I was embarrased, horrified and absolutely ready to jump him!

My gran had always told me that a woman--any woman worth her salt--could do whatever she had to.

No matter what happens in public—no matter what—don’t doubt that I love you and care about your welfare . . . as much as I am able.