![]() ![]() She remembered going to the window, reaching it in time to see Will disappearing down the street. So why did she feel guilty? Why did she feel so…empty? Like there was something missing. She didn't need what Will offered any more than he seemed to want what she had. There was nothing wrong with not wanting-not needing-the constant jostle and noise of a party or a bar or…whatever. There was nothing wrong with being a homebody. And after that outburst, she didn't want him back. He'd stood there, red-faced, a vein throbbing at his temple, then turned and walked out the door. I'm tired of going out on my own, tired of…Christ, we've got absolutely nothing in common and I don't know what I ever thought we did have." What do I have to do to drag you away from your books or that glass tit? This place is a prison, Jacky, and I'm not buying into it. It's just night after night of burrowing away in this place. ![]() "You're so goddamn predictable!" he'd shouted at the end. "What've you done to yourself this time?"įive hours ago she'd numbly watched the door of her apartment slam shut behind Will. ![]() She hadn't been crying, but oh, she'd been drinking… ![]() Its eye make-up was smudged and the eyes themselves were red-veined and puffy. Its hair was cut short and ragged like the stubble in a cornfield. The reflection that looked back at her from the mirror wasn't her own. ![]()
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