A brown haired beauty named Carol, dressed in denim shorts and a tank top, strolled right in, ready to make herself comfortable. "Let's make this quic...", said Hank, quickly undressing. "I want to do this before my folks show up." I don't do quickies", she said. "You know I hate that." I don't like it either, so let's do this." You're a grown man. What's the worst they can do, ground you?" Hell, no." So what are you worried about? It's just you...and me, and this nice, warm bed. No one here to. The anger that had animated her a moment before seemed to drain away, and she suddenly looked tired and defeated. "You see?" she said listlessly. "It doesn't matter. Of course you don't believe me. You don't have any memory of me. For you, I never existed." I believe," I said cautiously, "that you believe what you're saying." I paused. "But you're right: I don't believe you. I believe you are suffering from a delusion, a psychosis, which can make what you're feeling and thinking seem very very. More

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