Her widening eyes and tightening mouth shushed him. He gave the amorous stuff a rest. His face sloughed off its wolfish cast. He hoped it settled into...one that appeared at least mildly interested. Cuniff weaved his fingers behind his head and leaned back in the seat. He conceded the conversation to Beryl. Eagerness replaced her perturbation. ‘I know it’s an imposition having Coral come along,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t insist if I thought all it’d do was piss you off.’ ‘I’m not pissed off,’. That would mean that I ... overwroteher, erased her consciousness, deleted her from this plane of reality.In the warm light of day, I often imagine that Bianca is walking aroundin my old body, finishing the degree I never started and enjoying a lifeI could never lead. Sometimes, I actually pray that she made it to theother side, mostly because the alternative is unthinkable.Of course, it's more than just Bianca I have to worry about. There'salso my mother - my real mother, Fanny Woodridge; last. More

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