A Duet The best memory that I have of her is when she was house-sitting for her friend. We were in the guest bed, bare and silly, and we took turns - sometimes together - singing old songs. Fifties, sixties, country, pop; anything that we could remember the lyrics to. The lights were off and all we could see were outlines of each other. Hearing though, and laughing, was as good of an embrace as we'd ever had. That night, I didn't feel as though she was hiding from me. There was an honesty in that room that we could never find again, once we pulled the sheets over our head.  ¶ 7:34 AM