Bruce
I felt my head resting on a very soft surface. The rest of me was on what I vaguely remembered to be the couch, but my head, of course, was on something warm and softer. The surface moved slightly, alerting me that perhaps it was a person, but no man in my employ was this soft. At that moment, I didn’t care much about who it was; I just relished how comfortable it felt. I felt a hand in my hair—small, gentle, and most importantly, comforting. I tried to remember when this person had shown up, and then suddenly, it hit me. It was Michelle.
I recalled when she came in, just as the sliding doors opened to reveal my daughter. Esmeralda had her hair pulled up in a strange, detailed style that made her look rather adorable, but it wasn’t her that caught my attention. It was the woman dre
