The Bondage In Our Souls
This book continues the story started in 'An Allegorical Love.' Without giving anything away, two children, both the oldest of three, stood first in line against the abuse of the very people who bore them. What the children and the world never noticed was the devastation that lay below the surface. In that, they were lucky; their grandparents counterbalanced the nightmares with dreams. They washed away the alcoholism, narcissism, and physical abuse with comfort, compassion, and bear hugs. They propped them up on countertops and let them sing. The grandparents watched Batman, Kukla, Fran, and Ollie with them and patched the holes in their young souls.
The similarities in both our childhoods were what built our bond. Why the universe placed us in each other's orbit, I accepted as a gift. One of many I figured I'd earned. I know damn well Ms. Sarna has earned hers. She has lived with Lyme for twenty years. We never met in person. We didn't need to. Despite verbal role-play fantasies, the reality is that our bodies are fatigued from disease and arduous work. Rough sex was only wishful thinking unless gene therapy ever becomes viable. Then, Lord, help us both; there may be bruising.
My point is that love will find you when you least expect it. It comes at an inopportune time. Love smiles upon us when we have nothing. I believe it smiles as proof that our hearts still belong with the one they were meant for.
Twitter was a synchronicity highway where soulmates, messages, and miracles, all placed in time for us, waited. Serendipity flowed across electromagnetic fields in search of a parking space. Our smartphones activated the homing beacon that brought them home.
We just needed to believe.
At its height, 6,000 Tweets were sent every second. 500 million were sent every day. 140 characters. 140 single letters. The odds that Georgina would notice mine, the odds that 140 tiny letters could touch a soul, the odds that she could even feel my heart through the disease that ravages her mind make the odds almost incomprehensible.
She is in more pain than anybody can handle.
The disease is fighting to survive.
The treatment may kill them both.
200 billion Tweets a year, and she finds mine.
She finds mine.
I am not losing her now.
I am not losing her ever.
We're not losing what it cost us to rediscover our hearts.
1147549088
This book continues the story started in 'An Allegorical Love.' Without giving anything away, two children, both the oldest of three, stood first in line against the abuse of the very people who bore them. What the children and the world never noticed was the devastation that lay below the surface. In that, they were lucky; their grandparents counterbalanced the nightmares with dreams. They washed away the alcoholism, narcissism, and physical abuse with comfort, compassion, and bear hugs. They propped them up on countertops and let them sing. The grandparents watched Batman, Kukla, Fran, and Ollie with them and patched the holes in their young souls.
The similarities in both our childhoods were what built our bond. Why the universe placed us in each other's orbit, I accepted as a gift. One of many I figured I'd earned. I know damn well Ms. Sarna has earned hers. She has lived with Lyme for twenty years. We never met in person. We didn't need to. Despite verbal role-play fantasies, the reality is that our bodies are fatigued from disease and arduous work. Rough sex was only wishful thinking unless gene therapy ever becomes viable. Then, Lord, help us both; there may be bruising.
My point is that love will find you when you least expect it. It comes at an inopportune time. Love smiles upon us when we have nothing. I believe it smiles as proof that our hearts still belong with the one they were meant for.
Twitter was a synchronicity highway where soulmates, messages, and miracles, all placed in time for us, waited. Serendipity flowed across electromagnetic fields in search of a parking space. Our smartphones activated the homing beacon that brought them home.
We just needed to believe.
At its height, 6,000 Tweets were sent every second. 500 million were sent every day. 140 characters. 140 single letters. The odds that Georgina would notice mine, the odds that 140 tiny letters could touch a soul, the odds that she could even feel my heart through the disease that ravages her mind make the odds almost incomprehensible.
She is in more pain than anybody can handle.
The disease is fighting to survive.
The treatment may kill them both.
200 billion Tweets a year, and she finds mine.
She finds mine.
I am not losing her now.
I am not losing her ever.
We're not losing what it cost us to rediscover our hearts.
The Bondage In Our Souls
The Bondage In Our Souls
This book continues the story started in 'An Allegorical Love.' Without giving anything away, two children, both the oldest of three, stood first in line against the abuse of the very people who bore them. What the children and the world never noticed was the devastation that lay below the surface. In that, they were lucky; their grandparents counterbalanced the nightmares with dreams. They washed away the alcoholism, narcissism, and physical abuse with comfort, compassion, and bear hugs. They propped them up on countertops and let them sing. The grandparents watched Batman, Kukla, Fran, and Ollie with them and patched the holes in their young souls.
The similarities in both our childhoods were what built our bond. Why the universe placed us in each other's orbit, I accepted as a gift. One of many I figured I'd earned. I know damn well Ms. Sarna has earned hers. She has lived with Lyme for twenty years. We never met in person. We didn't need to. Despite verbal role-play fantasies, the reality is that our bodies are fatigued from disease and arduous work. Rough sex was only wishful thinking unless gene therapy ever becomes viable. Then, Lord, help us both; there may be bruising.
My point is that love will find you when you least expect it. It comes at an inopportune time. Love smiles upon us when we have nothing. I believe it smiles as proof that our hearts still belong with the one they were meant for.
Twitter was a synchronicity highway where soulmates, messages, and miracles, all placed in time for us, waited. Serendipity flowed across electromagnetic fields in search of a parking space. Our smartphones activated the homing beacon that brought them home.
We just needed to believe.
At its height, 6,000 Tweets were sent every second. 500 million were sent every day. 140 characters. 140 single letters. The odds that Georgina would notice mine, the odds that 140 tiny letters could touch a soul, the odds that she could even feel my heart through the disease that ravages her mind make the odds almost incomprehensible.
She is in more pain than anybody can handle.
The disease is fighting to survive.
The treatment may kill them both.
200 billion Tweets a year, and she finds mine.
She finds mine.
I am not losing her now.
I am not losing her ever.
We're not losing what it cost us to rediscover our hearts.
This book continues the story started in 'An Allegorical Love.' Without giving anything away, two children, both the oldest of three, stood first in line against the abuse of the very people who bore them. What the children and the world never noticed was the devastation that lay below the surface. In that, they were lucky; their grandparents counterbalanced the nightmares with dreams. They washed away the alcoholism, narcissism, and physical abuse with comfort, compassion, and bear hugs. They propped them up on countertops and let them sing. The grandparents watched Batman, Kukla, Fran, and Ollie with them and patched the holes in their young souls.
The similarities in both our childhoods were what built our bond. Why the universe placed us in each other's orbit, I accepted as a gift. One of many I figured I'd earned. I know damn well Ms. Sarna has earned hers. She has lived with Lyme for twenty years. We never met in person. We didn't need to. Despite verbal role-play fantasies, the reality is that our bodies are fatigued from disease and arduous work. Rough sex was only wishful thinking unless gene therapy ever becomes viable. Then, Lord, help us both; there may be bruising.
My point is that love will find you when you least expect it. It comes at an inopportune time. Love smiles upon us when we have nothing. I believe it smiles as proof that our hearts still belong with the one they were meant for.
Twitter was a synchronicity highway where soulmates, messages, and miracles, all placed in time for us, waited. Serendipity flowed across electromagnetic fields in search of a parking space. Our smartphones activated the homing beacon that brought them home.
We just needed to believe.
At its height, 6,000 Tweets were sent every second. 500 million were sent every day. 140 characters. 140 single letters. The odds that Georgina would notice mine, the odds that 140 tiny letters could touch a soul, the odds that she could even feel my heart through the disease that ravages her mind make the odds almost incomprehensible.
She is in more pain than anybody can handle.
The disease is fighting to survive.
The treatment may kill them both.
200 billion Tweets a year, and she finds mine.
She finds mine.
I am not losing her now.
I am not losing her ever.
We're not losing what it cost us to rediscover our hearts.
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Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940184417868 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Barnes & Noble Press |
| Publication date: | 02/17/2026 |
| Series: | The Soulmate Discovery , #2 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 1 MB |
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