The women reached the bottom of the steps. Allyson sort of clung to the wall on her way down. Paul reached out his hand, ‘Can I help?’ She took it... ‘Thank you.’ The four of them walked into the living room and sat down. No one said very much. There wasn’t much to say. Paul asked Allyson, ‘Did you sleep well?’ ‘I got some, how about you?’ He smiled, ‘We drove all night. My mom said you wanted to talk.’ Allyson put her head down, ‘Maybe later.’ Paul looked away, ‘Sure.’ Just then the doorbell. " Damn. You know he wasn't even taking notes when we studied. What's up with that?" He has something like a photographic memory. I don't understand it, really, but he says it has something to do with organizing facts. He doesn't just remember the facts. He understands them and that's how he remembers them, or something like that." Gee, that's clear. How did you find all this out?" Mostly from him. It was like pulling fucking teeth. If I were half that smart, I'd be bragging all over the place.. More

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