“Her mug of coffee had grown cold on the table before her, and the bustle of passengers lining up to pass through security had faded away to a background murmur. All her concentration was on her pen, the paper in front of her, and the shapes that were appearing there. Her hand moved, but she was not doing the drawing. She was remembering the Memory and the voice of the thing that had spoken to her in there. She was certain it had given her information. No matter how old it claimed to be, how awf...ul, how faded and alone now that Blake had passed it by, she thought it had given her something of value before she withdrew. Trouble was, she had no idea what. She closed her eyes, hoping that complete disassociation would aid her automatic drawing. "Hey, nice picture." Abby opened her eyes. A young man was sitting across the table, smiling at her as he sipped from a cup of coffee. He was fit, attractive, and evidently untroubled by deeper things. "Get lost," Abby said.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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