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Vinegar: That's What Fear Smells Like.

Happened As I Listened: I Felt Pain. Not In My Head, Not In My Arm, Not In My Leg; Everywhere At Once. I Told Myself There Was No Difference Between Being “inside” And Being “outside,” That It All Came Down To X’s And O’s That Could Be Acquired In Any Number Of Different Ways, But The Pain Increased To A Point Where I Thought I Might Collapse, And I Limped Away.

Even The Financial Disclosure Statements That Political Bloggers Were Required To Post Hadn't Stemmed The Suspicion That People's Opinions Weren't Really Their Own. "who's Paying You?" Was A Retort That Might Follow Any Bout Of Enthusiasm, Along With Laughter - Who Would Let Themselves Be Bought?

Being Somewhere But Not Completely: That Was Home For Danny. . . . All He Needed Was A Cellphone Or I-access, Or Both At Once, Or Even Just A Plan To Leave Wherever He Was And Go Someplace Else Really Really Soon.

A Swell Of Gratitude And Appreciation For His Assistant, As Opposed To The Murderous Rage He Felt Toward The Rest Of His Staff