I look at the various contraptions with fear and a wee little bit of awe. Most of them don't make too much sense, except for a bench that looks very m...ch like a sadist's version of a gynecological chair. It looks exactly like something I don't want to experience.But I won't, at least not right now. She leds me to the back of the room and commands me to spread my legs wide and raise my arms so she can tie me spreadeagled between two pillars and I hesitate for a second. It can't be good, can it?. I immediately protested, “Hey, wait, that’s the good stuff! He’s a reporter. He can’t tell the difference between champagne and swill!”Fletcher grabbed the glass before the steward could take me seriously. “Ignore him. He’s heading back to America, where the people don’t like him nearly as much as the Kurds do.”Marilyn laughed at that. “That is cold, Fletcher!” she said.“But true, so true. What’s up?” he asked.“Fletcher, I have decided to take pity on you for teasing you about jumping out of. Im sure Ive been a pain more than a few times, incessantly wanting to hang out with him or his friends, but hes always let me be his shadow. There are times I can tell my presence is wearing on him, and I try my best to let him be, but after eight years of being an only child with an absentee father, its nice to actually have company most of the time. One afternoon we were finishing up lunch. Its your turn to clean up sis, he said putting his plate in the sink. Im gonna be in my room for a. I didn’t want that. Not now at least. I didn’t cry out in panic, nor did I choose to run. I remained, transfixed on my long lost friend. Turning around, Cindi took my hand in hers as she skillfully directed me from the rustic platform. Now motionless in front of each other after so many years… no separation. No distance. No questions. Our hands remained entangled as our hold tensed. I could perceive her affection with each short-lived second. Our silent, absorbed interaction started to speak.