She giggled. “It’s okay. Really. I’m flattered. But, that isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”“Oh, cuz I uh…”“What I want you to do is...to take some photos of me. Do you think you can do that?”“Sure, I guess… I’m not like a photographer or anything.”“I don’t care about that. My husband will be here in twenty minutes and I want to give him a little surprise when he gets here. So come on! We have to be quick.”She ran inside and grabbed her camera. It was an older DSLR but it still took nice photos.. ?She lied, of course.? Guentherlistened to it all, making tiny, precise notations in a blood spatteredjournal, and when the story was complete, he began again, and then again.? Each time, the story changed; details cannotbe remembered among the pain and stress, Guenther stated factually.? One simply cannot remember what to say.? The only way to get it right ? the only wayto end the pain ? was to tell the truth.???????????? Finally,that was what she did.? Her father was a factor;he knew nothing. More

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