CHAPTER SEVEN
The alarm clock buzzed a long time before Gloria reached out to turn it off, her head fuzzy, a pit in her stomach forming slowly as the night before slowly returned. I can't, she thought, I can't go in there yet. Her throat dry, she lit a half-used cigarette butt on the ashtray, and coughed violently as the smoke filled her lungs.
She reached quickly for the phone and dialed the answering service. Between coughs, she left a message that she could not be in till late afternoon. Stubbing out the butt, she rolled over on the bed and sleep mercifully erased the growing desperate fear of now what. She would deal with it later when her mind was clear and functioning, the excessive late night drinks of the night before-slept away.
In the office, the doctor heard the message with
