Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.”
~Cormac McCarthy~
Sophie
Raphael stood between my legs, his chin resting on my knees and his eyes on me, my cooking forgotten. He had told of his childhood, so much more than I expected from him and now it was my turn to do the same, except I would be saying more than he did because he would never accept anything less.
"There is nothing much to say really" I said again and he frowned, his mouth tightening at the corners, eyes shooting daggers at me. "Cara" He warned and I signed loudly, shifting a little as I tested the best position to sit on the kitchen island and making sure Raphael remained where he was because I loved feeling his arms on me.
"Where do I start?" I asked rhetorically and his brimmed with frustrati
