I'm learning. Come on, Quinnie. Come downstairs and talk to us." Quinn looks up at the wall clock. It's been only five minutes since Owen left. He pro...ably wouldn't be back for a while. His stepdad smiles gleefully as she gets up and follows him outside into the hallway. "Call me James," he says, holding his hand out for her to shake. Quinn ignores it and he takes his hand back to his side. "Shy girl, huh? That's smart. It's good to be shy." She follows James downstairs and into the living room. So who, or more precisely what, was this disembodied manifestation of my beloved that I was spending all this quality time with? I tried to get her to tell me her feelings, but that went nowhere; so far as she was concerned she'd simply leaped instantaneously from being run down on the street to appearing in my apartment with a pressing urge to protect me. There was no transition, no "light" from which she'd retreated, nothing. One second on the street, the next waking me up. Nothing in. More

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