Clarisse was diverting herself from thinking about Wichita. She wanted to go back to her; she enjoyed being with her. What she did last night was an act of impulsiveness. It was too much for her to absorb when the images of the kitchen incident flashed across her mind.
When her mind drifted on to that incident about what had happened, it shattered her newly found self-love insight. She had recalled this joy from that night. The immense pleasure that she had never felt before. This was all so similar to it. Last time she drifted into some kind of her mental imagination, but now it was happening in the real world. She could not differentiate between those two.
Clarisse plunged down from the sofa quickly and bolted into the bedroom. She stood in front of the mirror as she saw her reflection
