Her upbringing hadn't exactly instilled the urge to share feelings. It had been hard enough to even have feelings, let alone talk about them – as fa... as anyone was interested to anyway.But things had changed; the villa opened her to emotions. She'd been forced to have them. Could she live with Alec again and not share what she'd experienced – and how she felt about that? She would become a stranger to her husband, a stranger in her own life if she couldn't share. She might as well not be with. I refused to say it out loud. As as I felt my heart rip apart.Abigail was home one day, and I was off work. She wanted to cook for us, which scared the hell out of me. At one time Abigail was a good cook, but with all her travels she didn’t have much time to practice. She started looking around for her phone when she asked, “Roy, can you get me my phone out of my purse? The recipe is in it.”“Sure,” I said the only proper answer one is allowed to give his wife. I opened her purse and looked on. "BABY! You need to get up so we can head out!"Shakes him harder, he wakes up. He stretches, yawns, and finally after a few minutes of that, he sits up."What's wrong?" Nothing, we just need to get back on the road. It's going to be a long day."He gets up, goes to the bathroom, comes back out, gets dressed ever so slowly."I'm hungry." I know. Gotta fill up the gas tank, so we'll get something there." Okay."Grabbing their stuff, they make their way out of the room and hotel. They get in the car,. Really get behind it. He pressed the knife to..." Listen man." ... the writer's hand and cut off all the fingers of his right hand. It was like a guillotine falling. It was one hard chop. All that was left was the bottom joint of the writer's thumb and pinky. It was really funny. I still laugh about it sometimes." Ray I don't know what you think you're proving by coming here... , " the painter said."Don't call me that. You don't know me. Dana doesn't know me. Both of you can call me nothing. I.