Katelinsqwa

“Francis! Get your fine butt in here!” you called out to your boyfriend, and soon to be father of your little baby. “Yes my dear?” Francis asked out of breath because he had just ran from the kitchen to your room with a plate full of your favorite foods. “Come over here and feed us!” You bellowed.  Francis smiled softly then made his way over to your side. “Yes your highness~.” He cooed.     While you were busy stuffing your face with chocolate, you felt Francis gently place his hand over your swollen 9 month old tummy. You stopped to look at him for a moment and then smiled sweetly. “Any

Yao tells the story of her slowly, haltingly, not because he is ashamed but because it takes so long to rediscover the proper words to capture her seeming as it flits through the archives of his eternal memory like a gossamer apparition. He wants to find the right things to say, because she deserves these accolades to honour her memory. He wants to find them so that he could perhaps, impossibly, make Ivan understand. Though maybe Ivan already does, imperfectly, in his own way. Ivan has always observed much, understood more, but said very little. And thus Yao attempts to describe, through inadequate words and half-sketched gestures in the su