He knew me in all the ways that truly mattered: the shape of my fears, the contours of my dreams.

The pressure of his touch through my jacket and my sweater was more assurance than any promise ever made to me. It was a touch that said, I have your back and I am here...

Come on, don’t you ever stop and smell the coffee?

Wait!”What?” I lowered my cup hastily, wondering if maybe there was a stray hair, or worse, a newly boiled bug inside my cup.You got to smell it first. It’s the proper way to cup coffee.”Cup...