Frade took one look at me and he stood up to make room for me again. Frade's body heat lingered on the cushions of the chair, but my brain was flooded with cold water, and every cell in it was working at full speed. Childhood memories flash by like a fast-forward movie. I try to hold on to every memory for fear of missing any details.
Jorah is a very tough person, and if I don't ask, he won't talk.
I remember when I was young, my father and mother had a heated argument in a locked room. After my father slammed the door and left, Jorah slipped into the room. Through the crack in the door, I saw him squatting on the ground applying medicine to my mother's injured hand.
He bowed his head and moved softly. The gentle look in his eyes was like he was healing an injured little female cat.
