One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. Miss Stanley hesitated, and took first one and then another of the constituents of this costume off its peg and surveyed it. Mike was draped over the laminate kitchen counter, on the phone as usual. “What if you get pregnant?” His worry came to a quick fruition. In this room was my ruin begun: in this room it should be ended. The imbecile.
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