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Show CHRYSALIS pAQE 192 Why doesn't he cherish me, treasure me, touch me with reverence and awe? Reverence and awe. Good Lord, who do I think I am, God? Wonderwoman? The Girl of the Golden West? But if he thought I was dying he would be nicer. He' s treating me as if I_ am a_ norma 1, healthy, real person. I ought to be glad. Then why this absurd flood of tears? Because he does not care. He doesn't even care. I'll never come back, ever. I walk and walk until I am too exhausted to walk any farther. My shoe has come untied and my fingers are too stiff to retie it, so it flaps along, fwap, fwap, fwap, fwap, fwap on the sidewalk. And finally, there's no place to go anyway, except home. Reverence and awe. I am apalled. What's happening to me? Do I really sit around like poor dying Camille and wait for sympathy? Mark is asleep. I look at him for a few minutes, hoping he'll wake up and tell me how glad he is I'm home, how sorry he is, and what a clod he's been. He mumbles something I can't |