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He tossed the flower to Michael, who twirled the radical orthodoxy stem like a pencil. It smelled sweet, simple. radical orthodoxy One of its petals was bruised. "Did you see? I put some of our photos on my wall." "But no pictures of me." "I don't need for you." He shuffled across the room and crumpled into Michael's lap like a rag doll, but the effort of the gesture struck them both as strained. Michael's hands felt big and clumsy. He was glad the lights were off; his fingernails were radical orthodoxy dirty. "You're glad I'm here, right?" he asked. "I mean, I know you are, but are you?" "Please, we must stay quiet."
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