Subject: re[23]

From: Miriam Mora <[email-masked]>
Date: Mon, 30 Jan 2006 19:30:36 -0500

He forced his eyes open. Humor It's a pleasure But something was wrong.

He sat upgasping, then slid slowly down against his pillows, mindful to push his legs straight ahead as he did. The red smears of her fingers on the sheet. She became even blacker. For a moment his imagination so vivid! Then, bang! Here too, he thought, was his own ghost in a series of overlays, like still pictures which, when riffled rapidly, give the illusion of movement. I tried to turn the doorknob, but for a few seconds it wouldn't turn — it was like the door was locked. That won't do.