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The Promised Land
by Feech


        They'd still be at the party. At least until three am, I think. At least...


        I know what he'll say when I ask. I know what he'll say. But can I make myself ask?

        My hand shakes as I dial the numbers. The chair is rocking almost imperceptibly, but rocking, with the warmed blanket I placed over her armrests. My mouth sort of hangs open whenever I look at her. It's not quite integrated yet... I just stare and don't really get past the staring... But what I really want to do is wrap myself all up in the chair and never let go and sob and tell her how sorry I am, whether or not she can hear me.

        She _felt_ me. She felt me. Okay, maybe not _me_, but the temperature, the warmth. She responded. She needs people as much as I do. We both do. It's my _responsibility_ by her-- and by myself.

        I didn't tell anyone... Not even when we had our getting-acquainted trust meetings when we all learned about Daniel and Kent and what Bix and Gabe think on various Issues...

        The vodor-voice that answers is Alexander's. I know what he'll say. It frightens me. But I have to ask, even though I _know_ that asking means... Telling, and _doing_...

        I squeak out, "Could I-- I mean, are you-- I mean, could I join the party?"

        Alexander's vodor crackles a bit, then replies,"Ofv course, No-vember. Iyll send one ofv the boys with a vehicle."

        Here goes. I shiver, but whether with dull fear or repressed happiness is hard even for me to tell.

        "Oh, thank you, Alexander, and, I wondered, please, if-- if perhaps... my Grandmother could come too."

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