. . . and what could this boy-soldier, this PFC by his stripes, have been thinking of to be here? She no longer wept for them. Inside her, the milk of...sympathy had gone dry an she worked emotionlessly, using her sleeve to wipe off the sweat that streamed like false tears down her face. She no longer wept for their mothers, especially his mother who would soon enough be keening his loss. She worked mechanically without realizing that she wept, her mind literally numbed by the mounds of bodies,. You remember that one ginger, sometimes brunette, sometimes blonde woman who called herself ‘Lyde?’ That was me!” Mom explained as she rimmed Miranda to further excite me.“Yes, I remember! You always kissed me on the top of the head, hugged me, called me ‘honey,’ and gave me treats, like hard candies and so forth! You even gave some to Gina at times! So, you were Dad’s occasional lover named Lyde. I wondered as I got older if you and he were intimate. I also wondered today if I had ever seen. More

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