Okay, she thought. Okay. You can do it, come on. Renee placed the razor between her teeth, the copper scent of blood filling the air. She closed her ...yes, said a prayer to a god she did not believe in, and placed her delicate fingers above the cut.Come on.The cut was deep. She had no trouble wiggling her pointer into it, past unknown anatomy- the slippery wetness of blood, the thin strings that- from the head splitting agony when she nudged them- she assumed were nerves, and solid bones.Not. She turned and looked out the window, silent for a minute. "Mike?" Um?" I answered.Chloe leaned over and whispered, "Would it be alright if we had a little more wine?"I thought for a second. She still seemed lucid and wine, as the Europeans say, is food. I couldn't really think why not. "Sure. I'll go get us something."A bright smile lit up her face. I went forward to the lounge car and picked up a half bottle of the Chardonnay along with an elegant plastic cup. I poured the wine into the cup. More

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