but when I turned to read it, part of it had been erased and the rest didn't make sense.
At first, I refused to believe it. I went through the cards in a panic, so fast that I was choking on my words.
I wanted to tear the inkblots apart to make them reveal themselves.
Somewhere in those inkblots there were answers I had known just a little while ago.
Not really in the inkblots, but in the part of my mind that would give form and meaning to them and project my imprint on them.
And I couldn't do it. I couldn't remember what I had to say. All missing.
"That's a woman..." I said, "...on her knees washing the floors. I mean —no—it's a man holding a knife."
And even as I said it, I knew what I was saying and I switched away and started off in another direction.
"Two figures tugging at something... like a doll... and each one is pulling so it looks as if they're going to tear it apart and—no!—
I mean it's two faces staring at each other through the window, and—"
I swept the cards off the table and got up. "No more tests. I don't want to take any more tests." "All right, Charlie. We'll stop for today."
"Not just for today. I'm not coming back here any more. Whatever there is left in me that you need, you can get from the progress reports."
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