"What a fooler I am. clogging apparition "How many times did you go out?
Even sitting in front of the typewriter slightly hung-over, drinking cups of
black coffee and crunching a Rolaid or two every couple of hours (knowing he
should give up the fucking cigarettes, at least in the morning, but unable to
bring himself to the sticking point), months from finishing and light-years from
publication, you knew the gotta when you got it. And the want. She became even
blacker. What a fooler you are, Annie. One of the cars was full of teenagers.
Annie Wilkes had her own interior set of rules; in her way she was strangely
prim. She stood there for moment, hands fisted on hips, then stalked back toward
the house. clime