In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.
"Tears stroll, like lovers on a winding path. They tumble, embracing, caressing; staining sweaters with their joy. I love that sweater -- powder blue cashmere with the lipstick smudge -- it used to be his. I remember our romp in the leaves last fall. I laughed, mercilessly, when he fell in the acorn ditch and again when he sang my favorite song. Luther Vandross, he was not, but I indulged him nonetheless."
The Angle: Vol. 2008
, Article 22.
Available at: http://fisherpub.sjfc.edu/angle/vol2008/iss2/22