We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. ” “You did,” Anna exclaimed. Her small round breasts were vulnerable under her mostly nonfunctional Kmart bikini bra. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory. I—well, I lost my temper. She became as The Tigress, a free thing. I—I hurt myself. Then Mike came along. I have a few regular patients, and I take care of them in the morning. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant.
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