As she continued to work, Greg began in a conversational tone of voice, "you know Mrs. C., I was reading somewhere that a proper and decent woman wear... a blouse and a skirt. You are a proper and decent woman aren't you, Mrs. C.?" Greg asked, again staring at her intently.Sensing his intent gaze, and confused about the strange feelings running rampant through her, as she knelt at his feet, Mrs. Clark began to color slightly at the cheeks and could not look him in the eyes. Her thoughts were. Something was happening out there, but I was safe in there, at least. Still, between my mother, and whatever was going on out there, I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Nobody else seemed to notice it, whatever it was, which meant that either I was special in some way, or I was crazy. I didn’t feel crazy. In my apartment, everything seemed solid, real. The shadows cast by the lights I’d turned on were as they should be, the light level normal. I walked to the front door, opened it, and was. More

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