A Twinge At The Edge Of Her

Time Had A Way Of Moulding People Into Shapes They Themselves No Longer Recognised.

Nell Was Not One For Friends And Had Never Hidden Her Distaste For Most Other Humans, Their Neurotic Compulsion For The Acquisition Of Allies.

I Sound Contemptuous, But I Am Not. I Am Interested--intrigued Even--by The Way Time Erases Real Lives, Leaving Only Vague Imprints. Blood And Spirit Fade Away So That Only Names And Dates Remain.

She Says There Are Stories Everywhere And That People Who Wait For The Right One To Come Along Before Setting Pen To Paper End Up With Very Empty Pages.

Curiosity Might Have Killed The Cat, But Little Girls Usually Fared Much Better.