January 24, 2007
Page 23
"Of course not," I said.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Why would I want to kill you?"
She nodded wearily. "I just suddenly thought that it wouldn't be so bad to be killed by someone. In my sleep, that is."
"You're not the type to be murdered."
"You think so?"
"Well, probably not."
She laughed, crushed her cigarette in the ashtray, threw back the rest of the tea, and lit a new cigarette. "I'll live until I'm twenty-five," she said. "And then I'll die."
Posted by tim at January 24, 2007 11:59 PM
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