Living with others by Al Zolynas Yesterday, I discovered my wife often climbs our stairs on all fours. In my lonely beastliness, I thought I was alone, the only four-legged climber, the forger of paths through thickets to Kilimanjaro's summit. In celebration then, side by side, we went up the stairs on all our fours, and after a few steps our self-consciousness slid from us and I growled low in the throat and bit with blunt teeth my mate's shoulder and she laughed low in her throat, and rubbed her haunches on mine. At the top of the stairs we rose on our human feet and it was fine and fitting somehow; it was Adam and Eve rising out of themselves before the Fall-- or after; it was survivors on a raft mad-eyed with joy rising to the hum of a distant rescue. I live for such moments.