And I was happy.I'd pulled myself out of my cocoon after Rita left and finishing in the bathroom, I opened the bedroom door to smell freshly brewed coffee. There was, however, no sign of Rita or my mystery date. I poured a cup of coffee and headed directly to my studio. I didn't bother to dress. I have several work spaces in the studio set up to let me work on different kinds of paintings and sketches. I sat in a comfortable chair, set the coffee on a table and pulled a small sketchbook and soft pencil out. In two hours, I'd moved to a larger sketchpad and the remaining half cup of coffee was cold.I moved to an easel with large sheets of rough paper and experimented with charcoal as I drew sweeping curves. The figure leaned back toward the left of the paper, just her chin showing below the upper left corner of the sheet. Her throat extended as her head was thrown back, arching into the line of her breasts. The feeling was right, but I realized what the problem was as I looked at it.. I had been taken from her dead body by Caesarian section, so I had never known her, either to love or to despise. Perhaps that was why I didn’t have much to say to other women. Certainly I hadn’t loved my husband. It hadn’t cost me much emotion to shoot him, and less to shoot my lover, who had been his best friend. Both relationships had been matters of convenience alone. “Love defined how? Sex? Devotion? Sacrifice?” “How should I know? The whole thing’s gross and weird and so is he! He doesn’t have any more time anyway, which is such a pisser! Another forty hours, and the limit of the contract is up and he’s permanently bound to Hell. We’re stuck with him forever!” She banged a bottle of hot sauce on the table and scrubbed a plate with a grubby towel. “I’ll have to cook his damn food until hell freezes over!” “Forever? How are you going to last that long?” She smirked at me. “We’re the same as he is. Undead. Isn’t that a crock?” She grinned at my wide eyes. “Me and Daddy and my.
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