She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously. Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment. The watch was again consulted. ‘Yes, that is reasonable. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. “Anna,” he said, “you make it all indescribably hard for me.
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