"You must be Shelly... or Mistress Shelly. Pleased to meet you." Monica said, smiling, as she walked up the woman with her hand extended to shake it. ...he took Shelly's limply held out hand and softly shook it. It took a moment before Shelly regain her composure."Excuse me, young lady... ah, Monica. I need to have a word with your father." Oh, don't mind me! Go right ahead!" she responded in a bubbly fashion as she sat down on the love seat. "Hi Daddy!" Shelly tried to ignore her and turned her. A tear forms in her eye, and falls, a silent sentinel guarding the walls of her resolve, but the wall crumbles, and she is aware of nothing but shame. She covers her face with her hands and falls into the darkness that hovers in the air around her like a vulture. She feels old, time-worn hands on her hands, then wind-chapped lips brushing her forehead. ‘Madeleine, I’m here. You need to talk to me . . .’ But she is gone, drifting in silence. He holds her face, kisses her forehead again. He looks. More

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