from The Woman in the Window by A. J. Finn, page 84
I think of my hard drive, swollen with stolen images. I think of Jane Russell as she looked at me, unblinking, across the park. I'm not invisible. I'm not dead. I'm alive, and on display, and ashamed.
I think of Dr. Bulov in Spellbound: "My dear girl, you cannot keep bumping your head against reality and saying it is not there."
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