..does that make sense? Yes, there is no other conclusion to draw. I've made up my mind. I have been made-up like this because in everyone's mind I am... in fact, already dead. I whimper. My bowels, as the Bible has often put it, have turned to water. An older man, sipping a Cosmopolitan, perhaps (I'm no Mr. Boston!) puffing a cigar, appraises me meditatively, almost appreciatively, but nonetheless with blank unseeing eyes, as if he were thinking of something else entirely (which, quite. I went to the kitchen and made coffee, no sign of my daughter early in the morning. For that, too, I was thankful. I knew I needed to talk to Kira further, but I had no idea what to say.My daughter came down from her bedroom just before noon, looking weary, wearing her pink and white pajamas. I noticed that she wore no bra, as was usual at home, and Kira's breasts had grown large enough that the old top was tight and clearly showed my daughter's dark areolae and nipples underneath. I looked. More

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