" You're NOT playing basketball! You've never played basketball. I've never even seen you shoot a basket." She slammed the dishwasher closed, turned i... on, then stomped out into the living room until we were standing face to face. Tami glared at me.She was cute when she stomped, but I decided this wasn't the best time to mention that."I'm not playing basketball."Her face softened. "Anthony Sims, you had me worried." She turned around. "I'll get my coat. It's in my room." Uh, Mr. Reed came to. Her husband, her master. His face has the quality of a blurred photograph, yet she remembers his rough hands. His rough, calloused hands on her soft breast. She shudders. Feeling foolish she starts through the alphabet, trying to associate a name with each letter: Albert, Benjamin, Charles, Donald… It feels as if every last cell of her brain was driven into illness. Her lack of memory fills her with silent dread. Not my mind, Dear god not my mind! She tries to compose herself. Ernest, Frank…. More

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