She took two steps, then turned and reached in the trash can after the picture. A sliver of glass pierced her finger and she swore loudly.She rummaged...through the medicine cabinet, finally getting out a band-aid and some disinfectant. She was an old hand at doctoring cuts and scrapes, having received more than her share of them, mostly from her bike. She went back to the kitchen and stared at the picture. It was where she had dropped it, balanced on the edge of the trash can. She snorted and. She sent an email to me stating that she really enjoyed my story and most awesome the fuck on the stairs with my owners daughter.It was email so we did not had continue conversation, its just whenever we were free we used to read it and reply on it, it went on for a week and I came to know that she is married lady aged 35 years from Bangalore and have one daughter studies and stays in hostel in Hyderabad. Have one mother in law at home and husband is in al khobar somewhere in middle east doing. Her father once told Heather that it was a very famous place, and when she discovered Thoreau's "Walden" at age twelve, she thought that she might learn why it was famous.It was a tough read for a twelve-year-old, even one that was a little precocious, but it was clear to her early on that the Walden Pond of the 1840s had little to do with the Walden Pond of 1970. She was sad about it, in a way, but wasn't sure why.She read the book again when she was fifteen; read it carefully, more. " Is she..." Tina said, he eyes filling with tears."No, she's alive. But things got worse. We are almost certain it was caused by the blood mixing. She was already in the middle of a serious episode when I arrived, and had been strapped down. We gave her an injection and at first it looked like things were going to get better. She settled down and even slept a little bit."Mom looked at Alex, who took over, "An hour after the injection Margret suffered a serious psychotic break. One of her.