CHAPTER TWO
There were a few days of bliss, Corey happy-go-lucky excited to be alive, filled with all the fresh vigor of our first days together. We spent hours in bed and I listened to him sing, and he listened to my poetry, giving me constructive criticism. I told him I wanted to go back to college and he thought that was really cool. We made the trek to SF State to get admissions forms and my life started to take some shape—at least for a while in my mind.
I went to anti-war rally meetings on the sly. It wasn’t hard to fit one in after work when Corey thought I was putting in overtime. He was so busy writing songs and practicing his music he paid little attention to me, except those times when he demanded I stay close like I was his puppy on a leash.
It was ten o’clock one night
