I want to confess as best I can, but my heart is void. The void is a mirror. I see my face and feel loathing and horror. My indifference to men has shut me out. I live now in a world of ghosts, a prisoner in my dreams.
Laura: My prognosis is doubtful. I wish I could say it was the least of my worries, but the world is coming to an end and all I can think about is that I have cancer and I’m probably going to die. How selfish is that? Billy: It’s not selfish. It’s human.