"Come, leave your things. Don't cry Kasey, not here, just come with me. Don't be scared," she smiled warmly. Long, long dark hair, framed the Asiatic features of a princess. Her perfect curvaceous figure dressed impeccably for the office. Her legs clad in the sheerest of silks. Her tiny feet supported on the thinnest of stiletto heels. I just stared, dumbfounded. She extended her hand and simply touched my cheek, wiping the uncontrolled tears that flowed there. "Come. Now," she ordered. Taking my hands she helped me to my feet. I didn't care what anyone thought, I wasn't the only saddo they had ever seen crying, and this horrible cruel thing we call life would ensure I wouldn't be the last. The glances that did come my way were quickly averted, buried once more in their little trivial tasks. Embarrassed, humbled, disgusted, who knew? Who really gave a shit! Anger at their pasty hidden faces gave me some semblance of dignity. My would-be angel led me down the aisle, the sway of her. I picked up the phone and called my best friend -- from before I found Master Control -- who was currently living near Dallas, Texas.Ken is 6' tall, slim (the last time I saw him), 27 years old, with grey hair. He says that the grey hair (that he's had since High School) was genetic... I prefer to believe that it has something to do with his getting hit by lightning twice when he was still in school. I had met him back when he was the boyfriend of a former roommate. (Who he is now married to.)We've done quite a few things together (camping, paintball, card games, and so on) and became very good friends. Of course, the fact that I hadn't had that many friends to begin with made his friendship that much closer. He had mentioned something one time about there being two families: the one you're born with, and the one you choose. Ken and Kristi were my chosen family. As far as I was concerned, they were my brother and sister.)When he moved from El Paso to Dallas (about 600 miles from El.
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