“I need you. I so desperately need you, Sweetie. You know you feel it. Please, don’t fight it. Don’t leave me.” she heaved. “I have Loved you since before I was born, since only God knew my name and who I’d Love. I know you dream about me. I dream about you dreaming about me. You keep wondering why you can’t think about anything but me. Why you can’t deal with your cases without seeing me in your clients innocence and your feelings for me in their guiltiness? Why you can’t touch yourself without picturing my eyes? It’s because you know it too. You don’t have to feel guilty, Sweetie. This is natural. I don’t need for you to Love women. I don’t care if you’re a lesbian or not. I need you to Love me.” I had only seen people articulate something with so much conviction in church requesting to be delivered from some affliction. I knew that deliverance came someday, but never did I imagine it would be in the arms of an exotic dancer...A woman that most people looked at as less than because. " Amy said."What was that Amy?" Mrs. Langston asked.But Amy couldn't answer. She slowly turned to walk away— and stopped. Big, floating, swirling spots appeared before her eyes and her heart seemed confused about what it was supposed to do; beating fast, and then slow with a hard thump. In the last few moments of consciousness, she thought it was strange that the sidewalk seemed to be rising up to her.2.Darkness was all around her. She was neither asleep nor awake, but she could think. 'Am I dead?' she thought. There was a distorted echo of a voice that seemed to come from nowhere, it was a male sounding voice but she couldn't understand what it was saying. She tried to say, "Is that you, God," but all that came from her were grunts and slurred pieces of words.There was a click, and then two clicks."Can you hear me now, Amy?" Yes," she said, and it surprised her that it sounded like the word yes."What day is it?" Sun—day. Did—you know—Ron-a is dead?" What year is it, Amy?".
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