I ache all over, both from D. Webster’s abuse and the crash. I’ve lost the flip-flops somewhere, but I don’t have any interest in retrieving the.... I wonder if I should be sad about D. Webster. He ruined my health, and probably my life.He’s somehow dry, though the storm rages around us. I’m soaked to the skin in seconds. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he exhales and passes it to me. I take it, staring at the glowing tip like I’ve never seen it before.The smoke is bitter and harsh, barely. We didn't have much to offer, but I'd been down to the public library a few months earlier looking for similar stuff, so I was able to offer some recommendations.I didn't see him again for about a month. He walked past me outside at lunchtime, and stopped, with a grin on his face."Hey, you're the girl from the library, right?" Yeah. Heather. Mark?" Marcus. Close." Sorry. Marcus then." Yeah." He waved the guys on that he was walking with. "Listen, could I sit there for a minute?" Oh, sure." I. More

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