Barry
was not on duty anymore, and his replacement was too well trained to ask me
what the hell I was doing going around looking like something a train had
dragged in. He got me a cab and I told
the driver where I needed to go. The
driver looked at me in the rearview mirror.
“Wouldn’t you rather go to a hospital?” he suggested uneasily.
“No,
I’ve already been.” That hardly seemed
to reassure him.
“Those vampires treat you so bad, why do you hang around them?”
“People did this to me,” I said.
“Not vampires.”
(from Living Dead
in Dallas by Charlaine Harris)
.
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