He watched me as I packed away with a smooth still stare that I could feel like a breath on my skin. ‘Anna, it’s five thirty. I think your done fo... the day. I want you to have dinner with me.’ I could not believe he had asked me out for dinner, but accepted the invitation without hesitation, despite the potential unprofessional consequences. He picked up the phone in the desk. ‘I want you to ring the office and tell them, I’ve asked you to stay longer and that you will be going straight home. I sat at my desk and hurt, physically hurt, watching the flat, bright sun on the shattered snow in the park, swollen with gin some mornings, the television on all the time, commercials droning for car insurance and long distance service, news, talk. I read about voudun—Voodoo—and the idea that we’re all possessed by spirits, gangs of spirits, warring personalities inside us that battle for control, and I believed it. I saw my life as a parade of observers standing behind my eyes, a mob shoving. More

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