Her fingers delved and probed, first easily and then frantically. There was no piece of paper. Sheila gasped. There was a rip in the side of her pocke.... Sheila sighed. The hole was a perfect rectangle. Sheila choked. She pressed a finger through the tear, the edges weren’t ragged, they were sealed. Her flesh, it was–The tingles shot up her spine, followed closely by the heat. She collapsed onto a birdbath, futilely stuffing her hands into her mouth to stop up the sounds. In the wrap room, Jenny. I am not your girl.’ ‘Oh hey now, the divorce is coming,’ He said happily, trying to calm her. She stood on her stool, looking at him with all of her power, all of her drive, her cool, blue eyes drilling into him. Henry blinked for just a moment. She lifted up the rattan cane, and with a single, powerful stroke slammed it into the countertop making a horrific snapping noise. In the quiet of the bookstore, it might have been mistaken for a gunshot. ‘Uh, um.’ Henry said, stammering. ‘Unless. More

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