Tears fell down her face, streams watering the fertile fields of her cheeks and mouth. She thought about that night.
That fateful, terrible, wonderful night.
Oh, she loved him. That was for sure.
But why did he have to come on to her like that? Why could she not find the strength to resist? Or did she really want to resist?
The love had overcome her, like the gentle passion of a lone candle. The passion mounted until hot lava filled her body, seeping from her ears and coursing down to her toes.
But single candles have a way of becoming wildfires. The wildfire left its mark in her swelling belly and scattering friends. Even her family threatened to disown her. How could she dishonor us like that? Didn’t we raise her better?