"She said we both grew up as if on a deserted island. We developed our own means of survival, our own ideas, our own view of the world, our own morali...y. In many ways most children grow up to be like their parents, she said, but in our case we grew up to be more like ourselves, untended, untaught except through our own isolation. "If we feel unloved," she said, "it's not because we weren't loved. It's because we weren't loved for who we are."The night wore on with neither of us able to stop. In a lot of ways it was an odd little structure—there was a lot more to it than there first appeared. I’d just started drawing when the waitress brought out my cocoa, mounded high with fresh whipped cream. I scooted the porcelain mug to the edge of the table, closed my eyes, and took a long, decadent slurp, letting the cream tickle my upper lip, and the tip of my nose. Heaven. I swallowed. And when I opened my eyes, and turned back toward to the chapel in the window, I felt, for a moment,. More

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