Saturday's Storyteller: "The last time we were here, the rain fell on the roof like a waterfall."
by Belinda Roddie "The last time we were here," she intoned, "the rain fell on the roof like a waterfall. The blossoms were still descending, but they were soggy, heavy with angelic tears. In the puddles, I could see the reflection of my inner demons. And the stones, when swimming in the damp soil, looked like God's calligraphy." I approached her and reached for the crook of her arm. No other desire pulsed in my mind save for the desire to cling to her, watching the moon force its way through the clouds. Here, the sun barely shone. Gold, in lumps or in warm rays, was always hard to come by. She allowed me to hold her, to press my hip deep into the curve of her thigh. I was much shorter than she was, and I knew that, if she wanted to, she could bury her lips deep into the crazed tufts of my hair, kissing the raw and white scalp beneath. When I traced the shape of a tear against her cheek, she did not flinch. I was the struggling artist, attempting to rub fa