Maybe my friends still exist in some way. Maybe they exist beyond the weakening memories. Do they remember me? Am I just a weak, rough memory for thei... minds to ponder over, as well? Am I just a wilted, discarded husk in a long since abandoned airport? Sometimes I worry that I’ll never fly again. Sometimes I worry that the clouds will always waltz so high above me, their only contact being the occasional tears of pity they cry down on this ragged planet, and the husks of what once lived here. . A pose, that was both erotic and significant at the same time.A portion of his male ego was buoyant at the concept he'd 'tired them out'.His more sensible side however reasoned it more likely all the excitement over the last few days in Ayeka's case.He had only the vaguest notions of what rigors Ryoko had endured to bring her to this conclusion.Right now he didn't care.It was her, really her! She was real and seemed happier than he could easily remember.As for himself? he was at peace.Feeling. More

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