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Show 49 was as if she were caught-closely held-in a web. Like those webs under the dock at the beach. Back in under the pilings, in the darkness. With a great high tide of numbness washing over her. Vaguely, she sensed that it was more than the events of the past few weeks which were responsible. No, this black numbness was flowing from some deeper source. Her parents? That wound which seemed closed, confronted months ago? That could be it, she decided. Or was it something more-some intimation, some ultimate vision of life which she had never before suspected. No. It was the circumstances of her own life. To suspect otherwise, to suspect that underneath everything else was only that long wave of blackness-without cause, without end-was beyond her. She would not acknowledge, would not turn to, that thought. Saturday night she wore her new dress on her date with Roger. He commented on it, he said she looked nice. Before pulling away from the curb, he drew her over to him, nibbling her ear. She pushed him away, "Not here." If he had not mentioned her dress, she would have been hurt. But still, she could not relax with him. She could not bring herself out of herself. Roger was kind enough. He did not turn his wit on her, did not adopt his usual role of the buffoon. She had not expected him to be so considerate. But the picture was boring. A comedy which was not funny. It was trite, absurdly trite. A sudden restlessness came over her. Roger agreed to leave. Where did she want to go? Somewhere away from people, where she would not have to see anyone. Or be seen. He did not mention his |