The kitten-shaped egg timer on the corner of the mattress beeps and they switch positions. Now she is cradling him. His head rests on her slender left arm; her right arm she drapes around his waist. This is done wordlessly, and the only communication they have now, without the connection of their eyes, is the steady rise and fall of their breathing.*"You can do so much more with yourself, Aya." Her father sits cross-legged on the tatami. He uses her secret name, the one only they know. Age has spared his face, but his eyes are those of an old dog who knows the world has passed him by.She wants