And the lack of a prompt steadily drove me insane. Now I wander the halls of a brooding Gothic asylum jabbering incoherently about having nothing to work with. The therapists believe they might begin to make progress with my tangled thicket of a mind if they can at least figure out who "Carrie" is and how she seems to be the catalyst of my shattered perception of the world.
The day out at the park was delightful, but