Dee was my friend, my sister and my life’s teacher almost took her life once again. On Monday, I watched her closely and observed. Her face was like so many other women, almost pretty, but kept from being so by one unbecoming feature: her smile, there was none. Her body neither provoked lust nor revulsion in a man. It was thin, not slender. Her jeans seemed to hang loosely from her almost non-existent hips. Her hair glistened from the sun and weighed heavy with oil on her shoulders; he had not washed it for many days. She just did not care. The slippery sliding of the water across her hands looked as though it felt cool to her under the steaming August sun; a tear of sweat slowly drips down her blank face. No wait! Was t
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