| OCR Text |
Show 207 "Good luck," she said. "Merry Christmas." He hung up. The line went dead. The receptionist had pulled the connection. And so that was it. She stood there in the phone booth, under that close grey sky, among the scattering of cars in the parking lot. It was beyond her, the events which determined her life. Because of some unknown man, from some unknown place, who needed a fix, or the money to buy a fix, because he had chosen this drug store, out of the thousands of drug stores in the city, because of all these uncontrollable, blind factors, her own little hopes and dreams had been swept aside, scattered to nothing. Some large force, some design larger than herself, working itself out. Where did she fit into this design? That was unknowable, she sensed, the overall pattern, the overall movement of it. Unknowable. A person simply had to accept it. And probably not question it too closely. Or try not to, anyway. |
