The little ones are safe, I'll come back to get them and the car when I've sorted things out she had told herself for the umpteenth time, then, not having brought anything with her that could help her distract herself, she had gone back to turning things over in her mind in continuation.
She struggled with a thousand paranoias without being able to stop thinking, her mood bounced continually between anxiety, guilt and disbelief. Try as she might, she was unable to find an excuse that would prove to her that they were just fantasies, something that would provide a way out or lift her spirits. That typewriter had been given to her a few years earlier as a graduation gift. It had been bought at an auction during which the auctioneer had called it "cursed", because it had belonged to a mad
