Sweet Mother Of Chaos," He Breathed. "rachel,

My God", He Whispered. What Have I Done To Her? He Thought, Humbled. The Spell Was Broken, But It Wasn't Sealed, And Her Soul Was Bare To Him, The Scars Of Her Tragic Past And Her Triumphs Over Pain And Her Aching Need To Find Her Place. He Just Wanted To Hold Her To Him And Tell Her It Would Be Okay, That She Had Survived And Was Beautiful.

I Didn’t Mean Now,” He Protested. “i’m Not Going To Raise The Child. I’m Having Enough Trouble With Rachel.

My Eyes Widened At The Ball Of Orange Fluff Squeezing Out From Under The Counter, Blinking And Stretching. I Looked Again, Not Believing. “it’s A Cat,” I Said, Winning The Pulitzer Prize For Incredible Intellect.

...treat People With Understanding When You Can, And Fake It When You Can't Until You Do Understand.

I Grew Up Reading Sf In The 70s And 80s, And I Like Fast, Thought-provoking Plots That Take You Places In Fully Realized Worlds.