In a final major and clear image, I saw our leading man and his long lost love. They looked like eight year olds holding hands and skipping along the sidewalk, frozen in mid skip. She was in a wide skirt with many ruffled layers under it. They didn’t know yet where they were headed, but I saw what the show had arranged. About a block from the couple was an aged, small, horse drawn carriage for them. It was a weather worn brown, yet reminded me of Cinderella’s pumpkin coach. The rest of the details about confusion, hope, anger etc., are in the story. Each of those images seemed to exist for no more than five seconds. Since writing that story, I found that the seminal image for new tales almost always came the same way. It floated about two feet before my forehead, the top angling slightly toward then away from me. The image inside the 5×7 white frame often moved – like several frames from a movie – and repeated. Color or sepia, it was sometimes blurred and always disintegrated if I. He was staying on the fourth floor and we climbed the stairs. All other floors had four flats each.When we were climbing he would squeeze my back, or fondle my small boobies. I said have to call home, he said I can do it from his house. When we reached his floor I noticed it was only only two flats and the opp flat had a lock, he just held my face and kissed me on my lips. I was taken aback but let him kiss me as I knew now we have to maintain the distance. He started touching me and kept kissing me I asked him to ring the door bell he said he has the keys. He bit me on my lips and I let him by stroking his face. How I wish he never opens the door as that would end everything.He kissed my eyes, forehead and asked me to relax. He opened the door and let me inside his house and then closed the door in a hurry and bolted it. There was only one small yellow lamp near the window over the wooden dinning table that was lit. He came behind me and hugged me, removed my school bag and started.
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