Chapter 2: Inspiration is often accidental


           “Xochi, I am sorry,” he said from outside the closed bedroom door. “I promise not to pry. Just let me in.”

            “Robert, please, I need to be alone.” She fought back the tears misting her eyes. That night in the spa, he had held her tenderly, and it was that feel of his flesh she wished for, next to her in their bed. With the lights turned off, she imagined herself again in his embrace, where she was safe from all that tormented her.

            “After tomorrow,” she said quietly to the waning sound of his footsteps going downstairs. “But I can’t tonight.”

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