I Feel Warm And Reassured,"

I Feel Warm And Reassured," I Whispered. "he's Like Santa.

No Sausage?" He Asked. Apparently My Pork Consumption Habits Were A Matter Of Public Record.

We All Know What We're Doing. Whether We Realize It Or Not.

The Locker At The End Of Her Bed Had No Lock, And One Of The Hinges Was Busted. She Opened It Up. There Was A Thing In It. The Thing Might Have Been A Sandwich At Some Point, Or An Animal, Or A Human Hand...but What It Was Now Was Fuzzy And Putrid. A Minute Later, Ginny Was Down The Stairs, Out The Door, And Gone.

I Have No Phobias. Phobias Are Irrational. My Fears Are Rational And Carefully Cultivated, Like Roses.