I hated him. ‘Gerald Alderley, I don’t know what you deserve. The threadbare remainders of the dinner discussion hovered over the topics of obsessive fans of the science fiction and horror genres. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. Knap. Her mind jumped with questions as fear raced through her and hardened into a bid for retaliation. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. She felt him as something solid and strong and trustworthy beyond measure. She made no attempt to answer her sister’s question. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ agreed Gerald with a grin. One has to be so careful. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly.
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