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to behavior onto us with this great task and I felt so much free adult
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diapering cruel and wept and dissolved into a dream filled with nothing
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ashes of my memories. I held him in my arms feeling his flesh like crushed
velvet, damp with the sweat of his body, his hair resting like strands
of a spider’s web against my scarred chest and divided heart, nude chinese
cunt rape true to listening to the murmur of his life’s breath through
nude chinese cunt rape true to parted lips the color of a peach when
it’s cut in the light of the sun. And in those moments of holding this
creature against me I felt like a hollow shell compared to the brilliance
of his life. My son, who stole my life in order to live, and weak and
dying though I am, I will forever see his brilliance shining through
fragments of time, glowing and growing, for as long as time exists.
I had to force myself out of bed. A long, hot shower finally cleared
my mind. Those pills made it hard for me to wake up, but if I didn't
take them I would never go to sleep. I didn't want to get out of the
shower, but all the hot water finally went down the drain. After I dried
off, I started the coffee brewer and put on my uniform. The Harrison
case files were scattered all over the breakfast table. I sat down and
read them over again. "What the hell am I doing on this case?" I asked
myself. "I'm no good to anyone." The facts were simple. Even so, I was
in no condition to be prosecuting a capital case. Any number of junior
officers could have done a better job, but the Judge Advocate General
insisted I take it. "This case will help you get yourself back together,"
he said. "It'll be good for you." Maybe my boss was right. Perhaps work
was the best thing for me. God knows I needed something. It was day
two of the trial. I had already presented sufficient testimony to guarantee
a 'guilty' verdict. Harrison refused counsel and he wouldn't speak in
his own defense. He was obviously guilty, but it still bothered me to
send a man to hang. I read, and re-read the files, but I still couldn't
understand why a decorated combat veteran would act the way he did.
I packed up the case files and poured myself some fresh coffee. The
large mug was warm and it felt good against my palm. Keith always liked
this mug. I sipped my hot coffee and stood next to the large window,
which overlooked our front yard. I had often stood in this very spot
while I waited on Keith to come home. I stared out the window, as if
I half expecte
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