They never settled that
argument -- it just kept going on its own, to the detriment of
everyone's sanity.
Whether she was getting a real education or not, Julia found herself
constantly searching for meaning. About what governed reality
(whatever that was), about what was human will (assuming it existed),
about the elusive qualities of soul (love, happiness, etc.), and about
the urge to bury one's face in Godiva chocolate every twenty-eight
days. The last question was more easily answered than the others. She
took a long drag, determined to make this one last. One a day was bad
enough, but she'd probably need another one after work if Denny was in
one of his moods.
She leaned back on the toilet and stared at the pale, sodium light
spread out across the ceiling. Deja vu. Something from a dream about
lying back and watching the sky. How the sky and the ceiling in an
Osco restroom were connected was beyond her, but what the hell -- there
would be an entire evening for worrying about mundane problems. Like
most of her dreams, she remembered it as another memory, one as real as
a memory of a waking moment.
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