"Your dad just called."Carol looked confused. "But my dad's ..." She stopped suddenly. Dad was ... what? Dead? But that was ... impossible! He'd just called, hadn't he? So why did she have a memory of staring through misty eyes into a coffin, saying goodbye for the last time? And yet, there were the other memories - her dad kissing her goodbye before she headed off to college. Her dad calling her just to check on his baby girl. So which were the real memories? And why was she having them? She looked up abruptly, and noticed that Lisa was starting at her. "What?"Lisa barely raised an eyebrow. "I'm getting worried about you," she answered.Carol felt the tears coming and struggled to stop them even as she slumped into her chair. "Why?"Lisa sat down on her bed. "You just had another one of them, didn't you?" Carol didn't answer; she just nodded. For a long time, Carol considered whether she could talk to Lisa about this. But then, if she couldn't talk to Lisa, who. So I ran the lists of reasons why I couldn't go online:1) My parents would see the mail before I would. 2) Credit card history my parents can access. That's all I needed to push open the door and walk in. As my eyes adjusted to the dark shop, flashes of the images I saw every time I thought about a place like this passed through my mind. Seedy with some older creep watching porn behind the counter as mounds of dildos cover the floor. I was surprised as I looked around and saw organization, cleanliness, and no dildos tumbling at my feet. As I looked around I saw a curtain to the back and some dressing rooms to the side. I scanned the shelves seeing some XXX videos and some novels. The store seemed harmless, but lacking what I came for. I walked around a bit and scanned some of the shirts on one of the racks. As I browsed through the see through, onto the leather, and then to the halfway modest, I happened to look up. My idea of a creepy, middle aged, store clerk went right out the.
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