And she was like a starry night Like a Ferris wheel, full of blue-green eyes And a heart of steel, always on her own Almost never real Lazy morning light projected shadows diagonally across the grey hairs of his chest. Noise of a hand mixer and punk rock music had finally woken Bart. As he rubbed his eyes he wondered, when was the last time it had been used? Before Amy’s last chemo, he guessed. This roller coaster ride was real. Everything seemed renewed, even though he knew would end sooner or later. With a prayer of gratitude, he slipped on a robe and went to the kitchen. She didn’t hear him pad in. Cream cheese wrappers were lined up like solders on the counter. The sugar canister was open and he could feel the heat of the oven. Her back was to him, totally focused on the task at hand. The tattered flower apron accentuated her thinness, but he didn’t care. The bird like features of the face more than made up for it. This place was a home aga...