All she wants now is to crawl into bed and sleep, straight sleep, without the pre-dream child vid she often uses, just simple sleep./ SLANT 109And then she sees that dreadful facelessness again. Her breath quickens and she moans. She gets out of bed and walks in her thin silk robe into the living room, the spare and unadorned place where she seldom spends much time. Right now she wishes she had artwork all over the walls, a pet or a friend to talk to; all of her friends, until now, it seems, need her more than she needs them.She has a few articles on a shelf that give her some comfort: a ceramic poodle, pink and ridiculous, that belonged to her grandmother; an antique folding razor her father gave to her when he first learned she was going on call-ins as a teenager ("to protect yourself," he said, "because the only thing that hurts worse than knowing what you're doing is the thought of losing you altogether'') that she had never carried on her person; a miniature plastic spray of flowers; a picture of her parents and brother.
