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Otherwise, Sabine’s hair was the color of dry tobacco and dense enough to hide things. Such as a pair of earrings. Such as a spare key. Sabine often used her hair rather than a handbag to shoplift, and occasionally a lost or stolen item suddenly resurfaced. The other day, it had been a pair of reading glasses she’d stolen from CVS, along with a woven bracelet from god knows where. She never got caught, however, and Greta suspected it was because she had the scrubbed good looks
Greta had a delayed reaction to most things and often fell asleep in high-stress situations. She’d slept through one car accident, eight or nine root canals, the SATs, prom, pap smears, her twenties and thirties. She’d fought sleep at her mother’s funeral—and lost, sadly—and now it appeared she’d passed out at her desk. She woke up drooling and disoriented. Evidently, hearing herself talked about in therapy had been as stressful as dental surgery, but now that it was over, the transcript complete and sent, she needed to make sure it never happened again.
mirroring my expression, and so I was able to see my own depravity. But it didn’t stop me. I’d get them to run and then I would trip them. I liked to watch them fall. I’d laugh and then they’d laugh, too. If they were hurt, if they cried, I urged them to get up and run again, and again I’d trip them. I entertained myself for hours this way.
Please don’t ask me to “journal.�
