Neither one was wearing any restraint, and they both went flying from it as it spun down the road.Neither one was wearing any restraint, and they both went flying from it as it spun down the road. Lisa landed near me. "And all I remember is holding her, begging her not to die, and she did anyway, and I remember having to listen to it." Carroll was totally silent as I told her this story. "And you, Carroll, are her from the waist up. Same long black hair, same hazel eyes, same perfect teeth." Her response was anger. "And you went through the same thing when Donna died, and you didn't tell me?" she said, her voice raising. "You had problems of your own." "And that makes it better?" she shouted, surprising me. I've never seen Carroll get angry. "It doesn't make a difference now anyway," I said. "It certainly does!" "Carroll, she was just some girl." "You cared enough about her that fifty years later you made me in her image!" "And why the Hell did I do that? What kind of Freudian screwball idea leads me to take that image and put it on a Centaur?" "Because you can't fuck one," she said sarcastically. |