Posts by Laurel L. Russwurm

104

Draped in cameras, Liz makes her way toward Natasha’s room. She’s reaching for the door when it opens and Boris steps out. He looks beat but smiles when he sees it’s Liz.

She asks, “Is everything OK?”

“Tired. The doc’s giving her an examination.”

“Mmm. I hate hospitals myself.”

“I think they’re probably gonna let her go. You could have waited and taken the pictures back at the Res.”

Liz shakes her head while effortlessly performing a practiced shoulder roll to reposition the bags hanging there.

“Oh no, it’s much better to do it here, Bo. The light will be better for one, but nothing beats an institutional setting for an insurance claim. I imagine it’ll help just as much in criminal court.”

“That sounds so cynical, Liz.”

Liz laughs. “I am cynical. But think it through. By the time they catch the guy and bring him to court her cuts and bruises will probably be gone. Because Natasha was knocked out she can’t even tell a horrifying story on the stand. The pictures I take will probably go the farthest in convicting the guy.”

Boris is looking at her. “How do you know all this stuff?”

“I was making a living off newspaper and insurance photos before I decided to go back to school.”

“I didn’t know that. I thought you were our age.”

Liz laughs. “I’m only a couple years older. Close enough.”

The door opens behind them and the doctor emerges. She looks at Liz and nods. “You’d better get in there fast if you want pictures because I’m releasing her.”

Liz and Boris go in to find Natasha throwing some clothes in a bag. “Woo hoo! They’re letting me out of here!”

“Wait. I have to take pictures first.”

“We can do it later! The doc says I’m gonna be fine, other than being stiff and sore. Nothing’s wrong medically except a lot of bruising. No concussion, nothing broken.”

“That’s great.” nods Bo, “But let Liz take the pictures here. She’s been holding out on us, She’s already a professional. Insurance companies have paid her to take pictures.”

“No way!” squeals Natasha. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I’m just here to learn like everybody else.” Liz stammers, suddenly uncomfortable, not wanting to stand out.

“Just let her take the pictures Nat. Liz knows what she’s doing. Tell you what, I’ll go round up some transport while you pose for her.”

“All right already! Just go, Bo,” urges Natasha as she starts untying her robe. Boris looks like he’d like nothing better than to stay, but he turns and heads out.

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105

stacked bits

Krystal’s computer stuff is spread across the long back table of the cafeteria. Her laptop is disassembled, and various internal bits are sorted into plates and bowls.

A saucer holds the screws. She’s shining a penlight into the DVD drive when Jake pops his head up from under the table.

“Ah ha!” he proffers a tiny screw. “Got it.”

As Jake clambers out from under the table she says, “Oh Jake, that’s great. You’re a life saver. I was beginning to give up all hope.”

Krystal positions the screw, then casts around for the tiny driver, which Jake lays in her hand.

“There you go, Doc.” Looking around Jake notices students are beginning to flow into the cafeteria. “The lunch rush is starting. We’re gonna be pressed for space in a few minutes, Krys.”

“I’m going as fast as I can.”

Oscar slides in beside her. “Want a hand?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. This is such a pain.” She holds up a network card. “There’s already an Ethernet card so I don’t know what to do with this one.”

Oscar starts sorting things out and putting it back together with far more assurance than Krystal had. “Why did you decide to do this here and now?”

“It wasn’t working right and I thought it just needed a good tweak. Except it’s been a horror show.”

“Way over my head.” adds Jake.

“Yes, I imagine.”

Krystal says, “Adam did a great web architecture presentation.” Krystal tidies the surrounding area, tucking books and papers into her bag. “Too bad you guys missed it.” Expecting an explanation.

Jake’s looking at loose ends, so Oscar suggests, “Hey Jake,” Oscar suggests, “Can I get you to grab me a cup of tea?”

“Oh yeah, sure.” Oscar tosses him a Toonie and Jake heads down to the food dispensary.

Krystal says, “You’re not gonna tell me where you were?”

“Maggie is tucked up in bed in the Res.”

“You finally got her in the sack?” Krystal asks.

Oscar blushes. “No, nothing like that. She’s just a bit shaken, since I took her down to identify her flasher.”

“No! They got the guy? I don’t believe it.”

“She identified him, but she’s having a hard time with it.”

Krystal asks, “Why? If she IDed the creep she’s a hero, Oz. We’ll all be safe again.”

“Really? As safe as Natasha was when she was attacked?”

Krystal tightly cinches the straps around her bag. “Don’t be a downer Oz. You know what I mean. Natasha’s creep is caught.”

“We don’t really know that, love. A creep is caught. He may or may not be the right creep but he certainly will not be the only creep. Sadly there are many many creeps in the world.” Krystal watches Oscar snap the case closed then she catches a glimpse of motion and her head turns. Sure enough, there’s Jose. She turns her head away as Oz looks too. Jose trails Eric to the food counter, nodding to Jake in passing. Jake brings his tray of tea things back to rejoin his friends.

Oscar pushes the reassembled laptop back across the table to Krystal. “Good as new.”

“Really?” she asks expectantly.

Oz laughs. “No, but all the bits are reattached anyway.”

“Thanks, Oz. I would have got it together eventually.”

“It’s fine.” Jake sets the tray down. They each take an anonymous white cafeteria mug, and Oscar paws through the pile of tea bags in the center of the tray.

“Jake you’re brilliant. How long have they had Earl Grey, Darjeeling and oh my god Oolong! The ladies have only ever given me that Orange Pekoe crap you Americans drink.”

Jake holds up his hand, “Please Oz… Canadians.”

“Sorry mate, didn’t mean to offend.”

Krystal drops a Darjeeling bag in her cup and pours hot water over it. “Could you pass me a creamer Jake?”

“I didn’t bring any, they’re terrible in tea.”

Krystal frowns “What are those things then?”

Jake looks down. “These are milk.”

“No, what do you call that thing? If it was cream you’d call it a ‘creamer’. But it’s milk.”

Jake looks down at the tiny canister. “I don’t know. A ‘milker’?’

Oz snickers. “Isn’t that what you’d call the great hairy beast who provides the milk?”

Jake laughs with Oz as Krystal reaches across to grab a couple of the milkers which she adds to her tea.

Across the room Jose is picking at a green salad while Eric eats a hamburger. “You know I used to think I was so incredibly lucky to have such an awesome girlfriend. Smart, gorgeous and built. And man oh man did she ever like sex. I mean how convenient can you get, just one floor up.”

Jose nods sadly. “Yeah man, that’s rough.”

Eric pelts him with a French fry. “Don’t be a jerk. It’s a serious problem. I mean now, how do I get rid of her?”

“I don’t get it man. I know she got around and all but what happened to all that undying love? How can you just turn it off?”

“Seeing her fucking some other guy was bad, but finding out he wasn’t the only one. I guess it wasn’t really love after all.”

Jose nods. “Yeah. That might do it for me too.”

“I just want to get on with my life. But now she’s everywhere. I only used to see her when she’d text me to come to her room, coupla times she’d just show up in mine. She never wanted to go anywhere, do anything. But now I can’t seem to get away from her. She’s even coming out to the pub.”

“Like they say man, careful what you wish for, ’cause you might just get it.”

“She never wanted to go to the pub. Coursework and sex was all there was time for. If I was lucky I could get her to grab a bite if we managed to co-ordinate our dinner hour.”

“That’s a problem?” asks Jose. “Cheap date, man.”

Eric shakes his head. “Thing is, once in a blue moon I could drag her out for breakfast, only if I caught after an all night lab. Maybe she was tired and her guard was down. Or something. No, wait, maybe she never had all night labs. Maybe that was all lies too. She was probably out fucking the football team those nights. No wonder she’d never go out in public with me.”

“You dumped her, man. It’s over now. Move on with your life. You like that Amelia, right. She’s pretty smart for a girl.”

“No, wait, Amelia and me, well, we’re just friends. Not the same. She’s more like a sister. Except I don’t like my sister.”

“Just, it sounds like you’re not done with the redhead.”

“I didn’t think I would be, but I pretty much am. It’s like she’s not done with me, though. Everywhere I go, there she is. Yet she never spent much time with me outside the sack. Which is a sad commentary in itself.”

“I dunno, bro, sounds like a perfect world to me. No talking just fucking.”

“Not for me. I like talking. And I just never really saw it when we were together, but I guess my hormones were always running at full throttle. Really that’s all she wanted.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem for me. The fact that she was messing with other guys, now, that’d be a problem.”

“What do you think about her wanting to get back together? Do you think she’s like, well, you know, stalking me?”

“What? ‘Cause she went out to the pub?”

“Um, yeah. She never did before.”

“Sorry to bust your bubble, but that’s easy. She didn’t have to before.”

“I don’t get it, what do you mean?”

Jose lays his fork down and looks at his friend. “She had her meat at home, and anything she wanted extra was on the side. You say you were humping like bunnies the whole time and it wasn’t enough. That means she’s got a big appetite, pal. So now that you’re not there to provide service with a smile she’s gotta cruise the meat markets ’cause she needs to find fresh every time.”

“God you’re a cynical bastard. I thought you Latins were supposed to be romantic.”

“Stereotypes are for hacks, Eric. I don’t see you gorging all day and hacking your enemies to bits every night either. Maybe you miss riding your Valkyrie”

Eric laughs. “You’re such an asshole sometimes, Jose.”

Jose spears a tomato. “Aren’t we all.”

Jake watches Krystal, noting she’s more attuned to Jose framed in the window across the room than to the people she’s sitting here drinking tea with. Jake only half listens to the conversation, watching her in much the same way she watches Jose. It’s better sitting beside her he could reach over and touch her cheek if he was brave enough. He can smell her hair from here.

Jake considers what would happen if he told Jose that Krystal was in love with him … hung up on him. That’d be the end of his friendship with Krys, one way or another. Either she’d end up as Jose’s girlfriend and she’d never have time for him anymore, or maybe it wouldn’t happen at all and she’ll hate him for telling. Either way she’d probably kill him for telling.

Maybe she’ll come around, he thinks, maybe she’ll forget Jose. Jose’s not very smart, he just looks like a Greek god. Jake sighs. Maybe in time she’ll realize that even though he himself isn’t a hunk like Jose, at least he’s got a brain. And a heart. Maybe in time. Jake sips his tea, smiling as he watches her laugh at something Oscar said. Not that she has time. Why would God take someone so beautiful? It’s just not fair.

Kate sees the gang along the back wall, noting Jake’s eyes on Krystal, who is just as inevitably watching Jose across the room. She’s so glad she doesn’t have to do that dance any more, it leaves so much more time to actually get things done.

Oscar waves and she heads over. If Krystal is that hung up on the guy she should tell him.

Crossing the room Kate wonders if she should just tell Jose and get it over with. Put them all out of Krystal’s misery. Or maybe she should tell Krystal to look at Jake. The problem there is that looking at Jake feels like cradle robbing.

“Hey guys!” Jake’s reverie is broken by Kate’s noisy entrance. “Who’s up for a computer club meeting tonight?”

Jake says, “I didn’t think you were gonna have any meetings til they caught the rapist.”

“Didn’t you hear?” interjects Krystal, “Oz told me they picked up Maggie’s flasher.”

“I heard there’d been an arrest.” Kate doesn’t mention that Nick had told her, unsure if it was supposed to be in confidence.

“That’s good, now maybe we can get back to normal.”

“So who’s up for a club meeting tonight?” asks Kate.

Krystal says, “I can probably make it.”

“Me too,” chimes in Jake.

“Don’t know about Maggie,” Oscar says, “but I’ll be along.”

“That’s great guys.”

“Do you have a topic picked out yet?” Jake asks.

“There’s a couple of new add-ons I thought we could try out. I’m thinking maybe be could brainstorm our own.”

Oscar asks, “Brainstorm our own what?”

“Maybe we come up with an add-on for Firefox or a game or something. Create our own, do it all open source, and if we can get it together maybe we can get it bundled with the next Ubuntu distro.”

Krystal grins. “Holy cow, what an awesome idea. I like it. Count me in.”

“Thinking big, I like it too.” smiles Jake, watching Krystal’s eyes following Jose as he gathers up his tray. “Just I don’t see I can be much help. I use software, I don’t develop it.”

Kate grins, “You could be a beta tester, Jake.”

Oscar adds, “You take great pictures, maybe marketing?”

Krystal says, “It would be a hot addition to a CV. Put us head and shoulders above the rest of our graduating year.”

Kate says, “Great, then, see you all there. There’s Adam, I’m gonna see if he’ll be able to come to the meeting.”

Kate makes her way past Eric and Jose on their way out, and joins Adam and another buttoned down guy Jake doesn’t know.
Kate perches on the third chair as she launches in to her pitch. One of the things Jake likes about Kate is that she’s such a power house. Organizing, co-coordinating, never tiring of making them all do the things that are good for all of them.

When Jake turns back, Oscar has finished his tea and is clearing up, so Jake drains his mug and adds it to the tray. Glancing at Krystal he’s shocked all the colour has drained out of her face. Damn Jose. She’s so pallid, if there was something he could do.

“See you tonight then,” Oscar says then carries off the tray.

“Where are you off to next Krystal?”

“I’ve got an elective, but all of a sudden I feel pretty beat, so I think I’m just gonna go home.”

“I’ll help you get your stuff out to your car then.”

Krystal looks tired. “Thanks Jake, you’re a real sweetie.”

Jake smiles, “It’s OK when I’m around to help, but you really gotta stop trying to drag around so much crap.”

Krystal smiles back. “You think?

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106

a silhouetted man runs on the indoor track at Brock University

Oscar bends to tighten the laces of his running shoes, then does some stretching exercises. From a distance it rather looks like he might be dancing until he indulges in a little shadow boxing before stepping onto the cinder track. Making the circuit at a leisurely lope he’s startled to be passed by Jose running at a much faster pace.

Biological imperative forces Oscar to increase his pace. He doesn’t catch up exactly, but with effort he can keep the same distance between them. As he runs, Oscar marvels that Jose doesn’t seem to even break into a sweat. Effortless.

“Damn,” thinks Oscar, who feels himself dying here. Wondering how Jose can keep it up. As his breathing becomes more labored, and a corresponding longing for a cigarette grows, Oscar decides living through the run is much more important. After all, no matter what he does he’ll never look like Superman. He allows his speed to drop back. In fact, the bench up ahead looks awfully inviting.

So Oscar starts to slow down and stops altogether.

He’s overcome by a deep fit of coughing, and he grabs the back of the bench for support. Jose goes by, but slows, watching Oscar a moment, decides he’s not gonna die and sketches a salute before resuming his speed. Oscar unties the sweatshirt from around his waist and mops his shaved head, then pulls it on, reaching into his pocket for the packet of cigarettes that isn’t there. As his breathing returns to normal he watches Jose running with the grace of a natural athlete. Oscar knows he himself more resembles a lumbering bull. Taking up smoking was the stupidest thing he’s ever done. His foot taps hyperactively. God, he wants a cigarette.

Even keeping it down to a handful a day, it’s now three days without. Don’t think about the filthy things. It’s time to give it up, just have to allow his body to get used to the idea. Lacing his fingers behind his head he stretches. Jose passes again. Gliding. Now both of Oscars feet are tapping.

Jose. What a guy. All the women like him, but the guy doesn’t even seem to try. At anything. He has perfect skin, golden, not pasty white. Not an acne scar or blemish on his face, straight teeth, long lean limbs. Thick bloody eyelashes. Soulful eyes. His movements are languorous, feline. Sensual. Right. He doesn’t seem terribly bright, not stupid just not quick. It’s not bloody fair.

And he’s not even especially nice to women.

Well, at least he exercises, that’s something, at least he has to work to keep up the body the women pant over. Still, it’s the only time Oscar has seen Jose here. Not that he comes as often as he should, himself.

Okay, they pant over Boris’ body too, but at least there’s a reason. Boris has washboard abs from spending the other half of his life in the weight room, swimming, or on the track. When not taking pictures Bo is quite the jock. He even saw Bo running and taking pictures at the same time last week. Oscar smiles at the memory. Maybe video, you never know with the artsy guys. That Krystal though, she’s just so single minded about Jose. Maybe Jose should be told. The girl is just so bloody hung up on the guy, and if Jose gave her a tumble it’d brighten her last days.

There he goes again. Doesn’t the bastard sweat at all? Oscar reaches for his non-existent cigarettes again, then realizes what he’s done. Oscar gets to his feet and yanks off the sweatshirt, tossing it back on the bench before he does a ‘Rocky’ bouncy thing and gets back on the track again.

Running is just so god damned boring. Maybe he should bring his MP3 player, so at least his brain wouldn’t shrivel up. Some good music would help him dance round the track. Maybe not. Maybe a couple of podcasts. Maybe enough running will beat down the craving for a smoke … no. Don’t think about it.

Run run as fast as you can. Run. Running on a track is just too bloody boring, you don’t even get to see anything interesting, each circuit the same, at least until you start dying because you’re in such rotten shape when the oxygen overdose kicks in and makes the sky look pink and the track look gray.

Too much time at the keyboard surely. It is high time to find some way of moving the physical body parts on a regular basis. There must be a better way to get exercise than this running around in circles. Alright, this track is an oval. Still. Maybe he could get some of the others interested in some football. Soccer.

Pound … pound … pound … the shadow prepares him for being overtaken by Jose again so at least this time he won’t jump out of his skin when startled. It’s merely humiliation now. Jesus, Jose. Not too bright but apparently that’s what women want.

Oscar shakes his head a little. If he told Jose about Krystal, and it led to Jose paying attention to her, hell, it would make Krystal happy. Or maybe not. But then. mooning over Jose from afar isn’t getting her anywhere either. On the other hand maybe it is. This way it’s a perfect dream unmarred by personalities, sticky sex or reality’s grunge. If Oscar were to tell Jose and he didn’t handle it well, what’s left of her life could be screwed. Only not in a good way.

So it’s for the best then. Telling the man would not be a good thing. She actually said she wouldn’t want Jose out of pity. Much better to leave things as they lay. The problem with having women for friends is knowing all this shit.

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107

the detritus of partying... empty plates, glasses, pizza boxes, beer bottles, and a baggie of marijuana

Mouse is stretched out in the recliner with a bowl of pretzels balanced on her stomach and a bottle of beer in easy reach, while Quentin perches on the sofa playing with the remote, flicking through the cable universe, the sound murmuring on low.

Several more bottles crowd the edge of a coffee table buried in pizza boxes.

“So your Tamara thinks you did not come out of spite?”

Quentin nods desultorily. “Yeah, that’s about it. She always thinks the worst of me. Nothing I do is right. I’ve been afraid to tell her how bad I’m doing. I shoulda gone somewhere with a documentary program.”

“Why didn’t you, Q?”

“I want our marriage to work. It seemed more important for her to be at a good med school. You can do film anywhere. Or so I thought. Anywhere but here.”

“I do not understand why you do not make your own movies? It is supposed to be so cheap to do.”

“Problem is, when I’m supposed to be shooting some stupid still photos I end up making video.”

“That sounds pretty good then Q. Why not just keep that up, then?”

“Truth be told, I’m not doing well with my assignments. I’m flunking out, Mouse. The hell of it is that the classwork and assignments are the opposite of what I need to learn, I need film theory. I’ve already learned what I can by trial and error. You can do any art on your own but you end up re-inventing the wheel.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You make the same mistakes everybody else made before while you figure out what the rules are. A good arts course teaches you what’s gone before, what works, what doesn’t.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yeah. But because I love Tamara, It seemed easier to not think about how miserable I was. Blow off assignments, let classes slip, smoke up, have a good time. But it’s not a good time anymore and I couldn’ta pissed off Tamara more if I’d tried.”

“What are you going to do? Maybe they would let you do film as independent study?”

“That’s what Natasha said too, so I’ve been looking into it. The problem with that is there’s no film community here.”

Mouse asks, “Is that so important?”

“I think so, yeah. Isn’t it important in English Lit too?”

Mouse nods, “Yes, you’re right, I didn’t think. Discussing the work is very important.”

“Other people learning the same shit, you know? The counselor I talked to said if I managed to pass any courses, I could probably port credits to another school I transfer to.”

“That would be really good then Q. That would solve everything. What does Tamara think?”

“I don’t know, Mouse. I’ve tried texting, calling, email, but she doesn’t answer and she doesn’t come home. Maybe she’s staying at Barb’s, but I’m not sure. She won’t talk to me at all.”

“You need to talk to her Q. What is her schedule today?”

“It’s on the fridge.” Quentin balances the remote on the arm of the sofa and goes into the kitchen. Mouse follows carrying several of the empty beer bottles which she stows in the empty case in the corner of the kitchen. Reading Tamara’s schedule magnetized to the fridge door, Quentin says, “She’s in a lab until five today. I could maybe catch her when she’s done.”

“You must talk to her, Q.”

“Don’t you have a class this afternoon, Mouse?”

“No this is my break day. We find a movie to watch and then it will be time for you to wait for her, yes?”

“Do you think she’ll talk to me?”

“Certainly she will. But she must stop being angry first. You must talk I think. Just now find something to watch. I’ll make some Kool-Aid. Relax now, talk to Tamara at five.”

“That’s not a bad idea Mouse. Let me hook up the hard drive, I think Die Beauty came in.”

“That would be good. I want to see that one because it looks so delightfully creepy.”

Mouse shakes the packet into the pitcher of water, stirring lime Kool-Aid vigorously.

Mouse hears the doorbell ring as she carries the jug into the living room, where she finds Jose and Quentin huddled over the computer.

“Hey Jose, can you move the pizza boxes please?”

Jose grabs the stack of boxes so Mouse can put the pitcher down on the empty spot. Jose standing there holding the boxes, not sure what he’s supposed to do with them. She grins and takes them into the kitchen, stacking them on the over flowing Blue Box for recycling, then grabs three glasses to take back out.

Quentin has the drive hooked up to the television, and now he’s in the recliner. Jose’s on the sofa leaned over the coffee table rolling a joint from the baggie of pot now laying beside the jug.

Quentin says, “Jose’d rather watch Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle instead. It’s supposed to be pretty funny.”

Jose shrugs, “I’m in the mood for a comedy, Mouse.”

“I’m easy.”

Mouse is thinking about the blog post she will write later about the folly of getting married before going to university. She smiles, secure in the knowledge that none of her classmates will bother to read it since she posts exclusively in Hollands. Blogging is excellent grounding for her future as a world renowned journalist.

After pouring the Kool-Aid out into glasses for everyone, Miese stretches out on the sofa. As she slides her feet into Jose’s lap she thinks that some things are better left unblogged. Quentin starts the movie as Jose lights up.

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108

wooden blinds fight to keep the sunlight our

Maggie is curled up in bed staring up at the ceiling. On her night table, cellphone, MP3 player and ear buds are twisted together in a clump atop her dark laptop. The blinds are drawn, and Maggie’s blanket is pulled over her head.

There’s a soft knock at the door and Maggie ignores it, hoping whoever it is will go away. It’s too early to be Oz. She doesn’t want to see anybody. She just wants to sleep. Another knock, louder. Maybe if she covers her head with the pillow, too, whoever it is will just go the hell away. But no, more knocking. And a whispered “Maggie?”

“Go away Amelia. I’m sleeping.”

From the other side of the door she hears a brief suppressed snort, then “Five minutes, Mags, then I’ve got to get to work.”

“Then come in already, just so I can get rid of you.”

Amelia comes into the darkened room lit only by the bits of sun squeezing in around the edges of the heavy blind. She perches on the corner of the foot of the bed. “Oscar told me that you’re really upset about the flasher.”

“Yes I’m upset. But I don’t plan on telling you anything. You might write it in a story sometime, and I’d rather you didn’t.”

“If you don’t want me to write about something I wouldn’t write about it. I’m not a vampire Maggie. I’m a writer. But I thought I was your friend too. Look, I’ll just go then.”

Amelia gets up and Maggie says, “Look, I’m sorry I’m being such a bitch but that’s part of why I’m in here. I am really bummed by this all.”

Amelia turns back, settling back down again. “I’m not trying to make it worse, but I am trying to help. Did you get flashed or abused when you were a kid or something?”

Maggie props herself up on one elbow. “That’s what you think? No. It’s nothing like that. It’s that I feel like such a shit, because if I’d gone to the cops before, Natasha might not have gotten attacked. How much shittier can it be? It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen Mags. What would the cops have done? Maybe they would have written it down. Maybe. If they didn’t laugh at you. They might even think it was a prank. You think they’ve got manpower for a college flasher? An elementary school, sure. But the world doesn’t revolve around you. It will get screwed up all by itself.”

“What, that’s supposed to make me feel better? Being told I’m an egomaniac? Well fuck you and the horse you rode in on.” Maggie rolls over and holds her pillow over her head.

Amelia shakes her head. “Glad we had this chat. Oughta do it more often, but I gotta go, really. Talk to Stu, Maggie. And stop beating yourself up.” Amelia pulls the door closed softly behind her.

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