I can't breathe. Her memory fills my thoughts. At my shock, she turns away, her shoulders quivering. I stand staring at the graceful lines of her body. Her perfect skin, perfect everything. It's her-my fantasy. But in the actual fantasy she's not crying.

I blow out the breath I've been holding and step out of the shower. The items in my hands fall to the counter and my legs move me back into the shower. I rest my palms on the hair covering her shoulders. Pulling her up toward ...