This reminds me of how my mother would nag me about practicing the piano. However, both Ben and my mother are right. Last night, at the piano, it was ...s if the piece of my heart that loved to play had left me. I could still play scales and sightread music, but there was something that was simply not there. In college, at least I had the excuse of class, homework, my job in the cafeteria, and an active social life with a few extracurriculars as excuses for not practicing. But back home, I have. This weekend's college football games were unusually boring, and by two o'clock, I was fast asleep in front of the television in the den. The first thing that penetrated my consciousness was sound. It wasn't enough to wake me, but I was able to piece together later the sounds of the sliding door to the patio being pulled open and slammed shut, and of a voice muttering, "Old and saggy? Old and saggy? I'll show her fucking old and saggy!"It was at that point that I opened blinked open my eyes,. It ain't that bad," said Monique out loud to her reflection in the mirror.She practiced smiling quiting as the crow's feet appeared again. She had just detected this sign of aging today, two weeks after her 33rd birthday. She sighed and arched her back thrusting her bare breasts upwards. Was it her imagination or didn't her hard nipples reach as high as they once did?Monique stepped back and turned around still proud of her looks and body. She was a vain woman and planned on fighting the. "The marijuana-induced freedom lowered her gates of natural reluctance, just as if she'd been drinking all afternoon. She felt hot tears brim in her eyes, and while she felt silly for bursting into crying, she couldn't stop herself, feeling doubly all of the bitter emotions she'd been nagged with since she'd been almost de-virginated by Clyde Brooks. Haltingly, letting the whole confession pour out unstopped and uncensored, she lay bare her innermost heart, telling Preston in a babbling,.