Thousand: Two Hundred Seventy-Nine

the lovely Rhea gazed pensively at the Des Moines skyline. Yes, she said, slowly. She blinked, then rummaged through her bag for a tissue, which used to catch a tear Samuel didn’t see. She drew a deep breath. I told my story. As I told it to you just now. That’s all. That’s all I meant to do. I was in rehab. Yes, I. I got into meth. I thought it agreed with me. I thought it made me real, the woman I’d never been allowed to be. The feminine finally broke through. I’d built up a wall against it,