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I left the lecture in a state of shock. Camus wasn't the happiest thinker around in those days, but he made a lot more sense than the heroic optimism ...eing forced down my throat by parents and the likes of Boy's Life magazine. The speaker frequently referred to existentialism as "depressing", but I found it energizing because it made sense, it addressed what I was rapidly coming to recognize as my own loss of innocence, my own inability (refusal?) to accept snake oil from the pulpits of. As she walked away, her hips swaying provocatively, James watched everyeye at the table follow after her. Even his. Since when had his tinySara grown so curvaceous? And damnation if she didn't also seemsomewhat taller. He shook his head at his observations as he drownedhis confusion in fresh wine even as a carefully cleared throat remindedhis men just who's sister they were ogling."Now," James demanded without preamble when he entered her room laterthat evening. "Tell me all," he bid her after. It was a red sports car, he saw, some sort of ovoid shaped Infiniti or Lexus, and the driver was having a really hard time keeping it between the lines. The eastbound highway was five lanes wide here and traffic was light, yet this poor slug was having a hard time keeping the car in any one of them, Burnett slipped his patrol car into Drive and sprinted down the on ramp, easily catching up to the red car in less than a minute. Burnett decided to try the ‘drive alongside the drunk’s car’. Would you like to go?” I asked that, knowing it was safe to ask her. Knowing full well she’d have no desire to go anywhere with a couple of old fogeys. She surprised me, though.Her eyes narrowed. I could see the wheels spinning, in her head. Kirsten is a smart little cookie. She’s no math genius, and probably couldn’t build a nuclear bomb in the basement, but she’s smart. She’s a different kind of smart. She had always had a talent, for knowing what she wanted, and getting it. I had spent many.
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