It is cold and dark, and it’s not just rain, but hail and sleet thrashing down. I sit and I’m knitting a sweater for myself, against the miserable...cold. I look down in my lap, and in the coarse wool are woven images which represent my frustrations, my fears, my sorrows. I have been working on this sweater, a little bit every day, my whole life. Over the years it has changed – adding on bits, losing bits – becoming larger and smaller, but always mine, the colors and patterns always familiar. At. Her eyes and her smile light up a room, But she can be moody. I can tell she was in one of those moods today, by the time I came out of the shower. She usually joins me in the bedroom to chat as I dress. Today she hasn’t come up. As I walk into the living room I see the two of them chatting animatedly. “Good morning, honey” I say pleasantly.Sumitra’s eyes are downcast. Hansa looks me right in the eyes. Fire. She is flushed and angry.Seeing the two of them together on the sofa, they could be. I thought I would reminisce about life during my sophomore year in university. While this story is true, certain details have been changed or left obscure to avoid identifying anyone involved.It was the fall of 2005. Mia and I were 20 years old.I invited Mia to come over one Friday night but she declined. I had been feeling horny all day, I found it difficult to focus on anything else. Thinking I had the whole night to myself I locked my door and powered on my computer. "This internet thing is. It was a typical Friday night here in the desert and I had stopped at the Westside 15 Bar, a local gay hang out, to have a beer and see who was hanging out. I got there at about 8 pm, just as the summer sun was starting to go down, and went in. I had cruised a local park earlier and met up with a guy who was staying at a local motel. He and a buddy were sipping beers as I entered the bar and he gave me a sly look of recognition.I went to the other side of the bar and ordered a beer from Jim,.
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