THE FAMILY AFFAIR



With a strangled gasp, Michael came all over them both.

"I'll get a towel." Vladeck jumped up. Two years after defecting, he still acted uncomfortable in their home.

"Stay. There's one in here." Michael tapped his bedstand.

Vladeck took the towel from the drawer. Underneath lay Anne's picture--face up. "You're still sorry she left."

Michael shrugged. Anne wanted kids; he didn't. Love may conquer all, but parental love is the strongest type. "No, not most days." He pulled Vladeck back down, and as they kissed, utterly depleted yet equally unwilling to let go, Michael realized that it was true.



HOME  |  LYRA'S MISCELLANEOUS FICTION | THE CUTTING ROOM FLOOR