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around her neck, tangled in the billowing white lace of her collar, and resting in the crook of her bosom. Her gray hair pulled back in a bun. Her eyes, also gray, were piercing. She would glare at me as if I had done something terrible to offend her. She was matronly, for sure, and gave the strong impression that she could be a force to be reckoned with. There was something about her that made me look at her, then look away, then look back at her, troubled at something. Something felt, not seen. Something emanated out of her eyes and was never there when I looked again. I would feel unwelcomed but not so that I would go away. I wondered what caused the disturbance she radiated so subtly, yet I felt. She moved quietly and talked little, if at all, and only to Anthony. She seemed to cast an invisible cloak of protection over him when I would enter as if I were bringing him sin. Anthony ignored her even when she spoke to him. He would rush me up the stairs.
We would relax on the light-colored, soft wool carpet…warm in the summer, cool yet comfortable in the winter. Shoes were removed on the landing before entering. Our clothes in a jumble nearby, unnecessary until it was time to leave. The sun shone through the many windows adding warmth, yet not enough in the colder months. When the weather was cool, a soft blanket was at hand; a welcomed addition to the warmth of our bodies hidden beneath it.
After many months and many visits, I began noticing subtle changes with Anthony. Our time together, most always pure bliss, sometimes seemed troubling for him. He began having misgivings of our relationship, rather its consequences and would torture himself weighing the future, and the possible regrets that he and I may have one day. He seemed to lose more of his cheerfulness as he stressed about what his future, our future, would entail. On some days he would express concern about his family, and how they would feel, should he share with them his world as we knew it. Yet still we had days where he was his tender and loving self. As time went on, our visits became fewer and on many of those occasions he appeared somber,