Did I never explain to you about love, Reva?' Pa asked. I gave him a look, and he laughed uncomfortably. 'I guess not. Let me put it in a way you'll understand. Love is like stinging nettles. Only they prick from the inside out, starting at your heart and bursting on around. It's worse when it gets here'–he rubbed the bridge of his nose–'then your vision goes a little strange. But eventually the nettles stop stinging–once she agrees to kiss you. But they start right back up again when she agrees to marry you–''Pa,' I interrupted, 'that's not love, that's fear.'Pa shook his head, looking off admiringly in the direction where Lacrimora had disappeared. 'Same thing, in my case.
