Glass Shard Beach, 1994

Ah, ol' Glass Shard Beach. What a craphole.

Okay, that wasn't totally fair, it had some good spots. But for the most part, it was a relic of the mid-60s; outdated amenities and even more outdated attitudes. Whoever named the place must have been able to see the future.

Still. At least Louise knew her way around - she did live here for over ten years. At least the weather was a bit cooler (though not so cool she couldn't get away with wearing her usual SFU t-shirt and short-shorts). Even when she was living in Los Angeles with her dad and her step-mom, coming back here for Hanukkah or whatever other reason was like coming home from a long vacation, dipping your head into the refrigerator after getting sizzled in the California sun.

Somehow, the effect was only magnified this time. She arrived in the old neighbourhood by taxi, after a long and horrible flight spent trying to listen to her lecture tapes and failing because she still had 'the pops' (that feeling where it's like someone's blowing bubbles in your ears with a vacuum cleaner . She had to sit in the bathroom at the airport for half an hour before they'd clear up, and maybe it was selfish of her to hog the cubicle like that, but whatever).

Between grandma's passing and the fact that this was the first time she'd been back since the divorce, there was a sense of… peace in the air. Resolution. Not something she'd ever thought she'd associate with Jersey. She felt like she was returning from a war - even though being a student and library guard in San Francisco was probably as far from 'war' you could get.

She had wanted to head straight for the old home as soon as she stepped out of the taxi, duffle bag slung over her shoulder, but she got up too quickly and apparently offended some part of her body, because she felt a grumbly stomach pain soon afterwards. Almost made her double over. Not that the cabbie cared - she'd paid in advance (she knew how much the fare would be based on her past visits and the rate of inflation since 1989), so he just drove off without batting an eye. He's probably seen much worse.

She bore through it, stretching as she stood up straight and walked down the streets. She felt so hollow inside. How is that possible? She'd had breakfast on the flight over - two croissants, one of those miniature boxes of cereal, and three cups of coffee (cream with sugar, natch). The night before, she had a large pizza, with the cheese crust that everyone was going nuts over nowadays. How is she still hungry?

It was then she noticed the old candy store. She was surprised it was still here after all these years. She couldn't help but stop and look into the window - still sold all those old candies, with names like 'fire vines', 'sherbert nukes', 'milkydoodles'... guess this was one business where being outdated actually works to their advantage. Since arriving, she'd seen a few trendy young 70s throwbacks, obviously from out of town like her. She wondered if 'candy tourism' was a thing.

By the time she'd had that thought, she'd already entered the store. Still had that old bell, and the shiny checkered-tile floor.

"Mornin'!" the old lady behind the counter said, cheerfully. Lou was taken off-guard, she had to admit - it'd been a while since she'd been in a small mom-and-pop joint like this. She was used to disinterested retail clerks.

"U-um- hi," she stammered, managing to force a smile. "Just, uh- having a crave- a gaze- a gander. Y-yeah, a gander."

The old lady's eyes widened, as something clearly clicked in her mind. "...'Ey, 'old up, I know that round face." she said, circling a finger around said face. "Ain'tchu Shermie's girl? What was it, uh… Lynda?"

"Louise," she corrected, tensing up and turning away slightly. She was tempted to just turn around and leave right now, but…

The old lady's smile widened, clicking her fingers. "Louise, o' course! Forgimme, the ol' memory's kinda gone to crap lately. Geez, I ain't seen you in years! You got big, eh?"

Louise turned to face her again and at least tried to keep her smile, though on close inspection it'd seem broken. Not that the old lady - Mrs. Ardizzone the local gossip-hound, she remembers - seemed to notice, she was already too caught up in her own memories.

"I heard you was livin' in California now; was worried you'd turn into a stick, I mean, whadda they eat over there? Freakin'... low-carb asparagus salad pitta bread tacos? Yanno, my cousin once went to LA an' ate a 'pizza', if ya could call it that. I mean, gimme strength, it was square! Who does that?"

"Y-yeah, uh… that's kind of an inaccurate stereotype, you can pretty much eat whatever you can find here. I had a pizza last night, actually. Uh, a round one."

"Well yeah, I can tell, thank God! " Mrs. Ardizzone shot out, gesturing to Louise's midsection. Lou ignored it, but the old lady still stepped back, looking embarrassed. "Oh, damn, I'm sorry - didn't mean to call ya fat. Imagine, me, a candy store owner, pretendin' to care about my customers' weight! Ha! I'd put myself outta business!"

"I-it's fine, don't worry about it," Louise said, wandering over to a chiller on the other side of the store. She was always a little on the chubby side, not that she cared. It was natural, anyway, and she needed the extra weight for strength training. Besides, it's not like she'd ever been that conventionally attractive, with her big nose and her mole that the other girls at school always used to make fun of. It's 1994, society should be past all that.

Mrs. Ardizzone calmed down after a few moments, her expression turning a little more solemn. "So… I, uh… heard about yer gra'ma. Shprintze told me the other day. My condolences. Real disgrace, I tell ya. Those quack doctors shoulda never let her go, maybe she'd still be with us right now!"

"Mm-hmm…" Louise nodded, doing the absolute bare minimum to acknowledge that she heard her, as she looked around in the chiller. She didn't remember this being here before. It was weird, though - she hadn't even decided she wanted anything and she was somehow drawn to the sodas. She was pretty sure they kept the sodas in a freezer out back before. Perhaps this was more energy-efficient or something?

Her gaze caught a pinkish can near the bottom. She grabbed it and held it up to the chiller's light. "...Pitt Cola?"

"Oh, that! It's some Canadian peach soda," Mrs. Ardizzone quickly explained, "s'posed to be pretty popular in the Pacific Northwest, 'specially Portland. Not that I'd know, never been there. Dunno why anyone would wanna go out there, 'less they wanted to marry Bigfoot or somethin'. Ha!"

Hearing that mention of Oregon made a memory come running to the front of her mind. Mrs. Ardizzone had mentioned that she'd heard of grandma's passing from Shprintze - her Grauntie Shprintze, Caryn's younger sister. Of course she'd be here, she must be taking it even harder than her right now - but it made her wonder who else would be showing up...

"Say, um… ma'am. Do you know if Uncle Stan is here? For the funeral, I mean."

The old lady rested her elbows on the counter and furrowed her brow, clearly trying to recall something. "Uh… Stan…?"

"Stanford."

"Oh, Stanford! O' course! Oh yeah, I heard he was some big-shot tourist man now, gave up science to get into more lucrative business. I heard he's gonna be here, yeah. Why, you miss 'im?"

Louise's face twisted into a look of confusion, but she didn't voice it. She just said what she would have said anyway.

"I guess you could say that."

That was weird - and she's been thinking that a lot lately. She hasn't seen Uncle Stan since she was… what, eight years old? Yet somehow she remembers him well. He was studying for his twelve PhDs for the first half of her childhood, then off doing research into 'anomalies' in some backwater town in Oregon for the rest, so she didn't see him often. Yet those times stood out to her. To call him the smartest guy she knew would feel like the understatement of the century. He seemed to know everything. He used to play D&D& more D with her, and encouraged her to look at things from different angles. To use her brains.

That lasted with her even as he seemingly dropped off the face of the earth after that. She'd sometimes wondered what he was up to, but she could never find his address, and in any event she and dad were too wrapped up in step-mom's business to pay much attention to what was going on outside LA. She'd always assumed he'd write a dozen papers, maybe work for the government - to forget all about science and go into tourism didn't seem like him at all.

"Oh!" Mrs. Ardizzone started clicking her fingers again, snapping Louise out of her thoughts. "If yer wonderin' where the jelly beans are, they were moved to the wall behind yers. We had to shift some things 'round to get the chiller in. ...You do still drink Louce, right?"

Louise exchanged the Pitt for a colder one she hadn't been holding, and closed the chiller. That would explain why she'd just been about to ask about the jelly beans. "I, uh… not really, no. I haven't made Louce since seventh grade. My step-mom banned it, said it rots your teeth. She wanted me to have 'Hollywood teeth'."

"...Oh," the old lady went, crestfallen.

Louise knew why. 'Louce' - short for 'Louise-Juice' - was some unholy concoction she made when she was a kid. The two main ingredients were soda and jelly beans, and occasionally other candies thrown in for variety. It was Uncle Stanford's idea, she was pretty sure. Like a mad scientist, she'd always try different combinations of sodas and candies to produce different flavours, and she'd report her 'findings' back to Mrs. Ardizzone. ...It was kinda stupid and inane, but… it was fun.

And hey, step-mom was finally out of the picture. Fat lot of good looking after her 'Hollywood teeth' did.

Louise uneasily rubbed her shoulder, trying to smile again. "I guess… I never had this Pitt Cola before. Maybe I could run another experiment?"

Louise had to admit, she was feeling a lot better after her little detour to the candy store. She knew it wouldn't last, though - she had to make the most of it, until she could get some privacy.

"Ah, sh-shucks… here we go again," she muttered to herself, as she approached her old home.

Well, to call the building itself her home was always inaccurate - it was really just the second floor and some of the back rooms, the first floor was mostly business and strictly off-limits for nosy, eavesdropping little girls like her.

That was back when it was Pines Pawns, though. Things had obviously changed since then. Now the sign above read 'GIGAPYNES ELECTRONICS' in a bold, high-impact kinda font. The awning was gone, and the shop window was full of computer equipment - an indistinct pile of beige plastic. There was a sticker on the window advertising 'Used PCs! Appliances! Power Tools! Repair Services, Consultations and More, Inquire Within!'

She glanced up at the windows above the shop. Grandma's 'Phone Psychic' neon sign was still there, but for the first time ever it wasn't turned on. She ran her 'psychic consultation' service all the way to the end.

Louise swallowed hard, and immediately headed for the door, noticing the mezuzah on the way in.

The inside of the shop was much cooler than before, too - both literally, thanks to a new AC unit (she could tell because it didn't sound like a rattlesnake in a trash can) and figuratively. The carpet was blue, the walls were blue, even the lights were blue, casting blue all over the most beige and grey products on display. The only splash of warmer colour came from behind the desk.

There was a skinny guy she didn't recognize sitting there on one of those swivelling desk chairs, with his back to her. Looked like he was roughly her age, possibly younger. He was wearing a baggy, bright red bowling shirt and a backwards baseball cap atop a mop of dirty blonde hair. In front of him was a TV, on which he was playing Super Fight Fighters on the SBES. The sound of pixelated brawlers beating each other up must have covered up her entrance.

"NOW I SHALL FACE THE WORLD'S GREATEST FIGHT FIGHTERS!" screamed a shirtless, eyepatch-wearing martial artist (Rampage McAmbush?), in the voice of a Japanese man badly imitating an American. "TAKE ME TO THE SOVIET UNION!"

"Someone hasn't heard the news..." Louise quipped, leaning against the counter.

The skinny guy was almost startled out of his seat. Fumbling with his controller, he turned around to face her. "Woah! Uh, sorry, dude! Uh, chick! Dudette? Chude? Nah, that don't sound right…" he rattled off quickly, placing his controller down on the counter.

Louise noticed his character in the game had automatically proceeded to the next fight and was getting his butt kicked as he just stood there, idling. Lou pressed the start button to pause it for him.

"Huh?" the skinny guy went, looking back for a moment. "...Oh. Right. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Lou said, her expression just as blank as it had been when she walked in. "Is Sherman Pines in?"

"Sherman- OH! You mean the boss, Mr. Big, Deals On Wheels! Yah, he's up in here, alright! You know 'im? What am I beamin', o' course ya know 'im! I'll go deliver him unto you!"

The guy scampered off into the back rooms. Lou rolled her eyes at the sight. The guy was obviously trying hard to be cool - like those skateboarders and rap artists she was always hearing about - but the way he moved kinda spoiled the whole 'radical' image. These kinds of guys were all over the place back in California, but she hadn't expected to find one this far off the beaten path; and in a 'nerdy' locale like a computer store, to boot. Maybe that explained the scampering.

"Yo, Mr. Pines…" Louise heard the guy talking in the back, "this dudette's here to see ya."

Barely five seconds passed before Louise heard that distinct sound of squeaky wheels, as her father emerged from the back office. Even in his wheelchair, he was a huge man - she was certain he was nearly seven feet tall. He sometimes joked, bitterly, that the loss of his ability to walk was the world's way of 'evening the playing field'.

Yet as he turned the corner - evidently having made sure the passages in the store were wide enough for him - Lou noticed he was smiling. That was a first. Usually he'd save the smiles for later. Not to mention, he was clearly in better shape, in multiple ways - he'd regained much of his old top-heavy physique, his round glasses had been recently cleaned, and he even wore clean clothes that fit.

Before Lou could consider these things further, he'd wordlessly wheeled over to her and forcefully pulled her into a hug.

Feeling his almost crushing grip around her torso, it was surprise and physical strain that stopped her from hugging back immediately. For a few moments she just stood frozen, eyes wide. She noticed the guy from earlier come back in and avert his eyes from the scene, possibly embarrassed on her behalf. ...Well, guess that makes them even.

Finally, she gingerly wrapped her own arm around her father's neck. "U-um… hi, dad. I'm here."

"I know, greenie. Good thing, too. Ya need to work on your huggin'. People'd think you were a stranger," dad replied, gently releasing her and letting her stand back up, catching her breath. Still sounded grizzled, but had… less of an edge? He certainly never cared this much about hugs before - which is to say, cared at all. Louise was used to staring at him for five minutes before they'd give a weak tap against each other's shoulders.

The guy from before stepped forward, trying to regain some of his earlier pep. "Oh! So she's- I thought that visage seemed all familiar-like!"

"Let's not rush this, eh?" dad cut in, holding up one of his huge hands. "But yeah, this is my daughter, Louise, or Lou for short. I call her 'greenie' 'cause she used to wear a lotta green. Didn't care that we used to buy her clothes from the thrift store, s'long as it was green."

"Yyyyep, I sure did - uh, didn't. Care it was from the- you know," Louise confirmed, tensing up a little. "Not wearing green now, though…"

Dad gestured to the skinny guy. "Lou, this is Emile. He works for me. Like you needed me to tell ya," dad said, good-naturedly rubbing his forehead, like he realized he'd said something stupid.

Louise wordlessly held out a hand for him to shake, only for him to… lightly punch her on the palm? To call it a 'punch' was giving it too much credit, more like a light brush with a fist. Oh wait, was this one of those 'fist bumps' that everyone was doing now?

"Boom! Nice to catch eyes with ya!" he said, grinning. "B'yeah, I'm Emile. Or Em. I-I really prefer Emile, 'cause Em sounds kinda like a girl's name, but if y'wanna call me Em, you can!"

"Um, noted," Lou replied, nodding, her expression still blank. "I mean, people call me Lou and that sounds like a guy's name, so yeah."

"Lou's just come back from San Francisco," dad added, "she's studying to become an FBI agent!"

"Woah…" Emile's jaw dropped. "That's super wicked awesome, dudette! When do you get to start huntin' aliens? Or maybe you've found one already - I figured that'd be, like, the entry-level exam!"

Louise's brow almost raised through the roof.

"Uh… you're thinking of the border patrol. I'm… not really into that."

"What? O-oh, no, not- I don't mean that kinda- I-I mean a space alien! Yanno, li'l green men with rayguns! Or was it grey men with plasma pistols nowadays?"

Louise blinked a few times, brow firmly set in raised mode.

"You… you do know that's not what the FBI does, right? I think you've been watching too much X-Docs."

Emile slumped in disappointment, but before he could say anything, dad wheeled in further between them. "Hey, go easy on 'im, Lou. He's really into this speculative science stuff. An' if anyone could track down space aliens, it's him - he's an expert with computers. He can fix a frazzled dial-up output connection with a roll of parchment and a bucket'a dry grass!"

"It's backwoods computin' up in here," Emile said, making a sort of 'surfing' gesture with his palm. "There's no school like the old school, an' I'm the freakin' principal!"

"I don't see how those two things are related, but okay…" Lou said, uneasily. "L-listen, dad - can we go somewhere private? So we can talk about… you know."

Emile suddenly stepped back and looked away, fidgeting with his hands, his pep having disappeared again.

Dad's brow raised now, his smile becoming less pronounced. "Uh… sure. Yeah, of course."

He proceeded to wheel himself to the back office again, Louise following behind him. "Oh, an' Emile - try not to get too distracted playin' that game again, 'kay?"

"Y-yeah, I gotcha," Emile responded.

Louise closed the door behind her as they stepped into her father's office. This place had been spruced up a bit, too - felt like she'd just stepped into one of her old workplaces.

"Moses, Lou, what's the matter with you?" dad asked, sounding more concerned than angry, "Emile was just tryin' to be friendly."

"Yeah, nice to see you too, dad!" Louise snapped, clenching her fists. "I'm sorry I'm not feelin' so great; you may not 'ave heard, but my grandma just died! You know, your mom? Does he even know?! Or is he this much of an ass normally?!"

Louise regretted those words almost as soon as they left her mouth. She tensed up, expecting dad to give her a good stern talking-to, but instead he just sort of… seemed startled. Then he sighed, glancing at the floor.

"O-oh, um… I-I'm sorry," Lou said, "I'm just a li'l-"

"Don't be," dad cut in, holding a palm up again, "it's my fault, I shouldn'ta put you on the spot like that. I shoulda just let you get some peace."

Louise saw a tear rolling down her father's face, and she felt her heart drop into that hollow space inside her.

"Dad, are you crying?"

"No," he lied, wiping the tear away, "it's that new AC unit, blows cold air into my eyes…"

Louise put the bag she'd brought in from the candy store on the desk next to her and knelt down, so she was below eye level with her dad again. She trembled and took an awkwardly long amount of time to do it, but… she was pretty sure this was a comforting sort of thing, right? She took one of his rough, calloused hands in her own much smaller hands, attempting to remind herself of the presence she was dealing with. Didn't stop him from seeming much… smaller than usual.

"Dad, I'm really sorry, I just… I've been a bit on edge. A-and I don't understand, you- on the phone, you seemed so shaken. But then I come in here and you're all... "

"I think I understand," dad cut in again, sniffling a little. "I may not'a looked like I care, but I do care. Yanno I do. She was my ma, for cripes' sakes. It's just… how do I explain it… since I moved back in with your grandma, she's been teachin' me some things. I know she taught you a lotta things, with those letters, back in LA. But… it's diff'rent when she's physically there with ya. Or, was… ugh, I'm not good with these words."

"I-it's fine, you can explain later," Louise said, standing back up. "I'm kinda tired, anyway."

Dad took a moment to squint at her, before his eyes widened. "No wonder. Sheesh, look at ya! When was the last time ya slept?"

Louise nervously clasped her hands in front of her and gazed at the wall. "Um… yesterday. ...Morning. ...On the couch. ...In uniform. ...I missed one of my classes…"

Dad chuckled harshly, shaking his head. "Guess that explains a lot… yeah, you oughta go have a beauty nap, missy. I set up the couch-bed in my room for ya. Just don't overdo it, ya don't wanna get up too early tomorrow. The, uh… the funeral's at noon. O-oh, uh, did you remember to bring something to wear?"

Louise froze again, sweating a little. She was tempted to make a quip about how she was wearing something right now, but this probably wasn't the time. "Oh... shucks, I forgot…"

"Eh, don't matter," dad waved a hand, "I'll work somethin' out."

He paused as his gaze was finally drawn to the bag Louise had left on the desk. "What's that?"

"Oh, I went to Mrs. Ardizzone's old store on the way here. I, uh, bought some blue jelly beans. And some… Pitt Cola, I think? I was gonna make some Louce, but…"

Dad looked puzzled for a moment, probably wondering why she was suddenly making a weird cocktail she hadn't made since middle school, but he soon cottoned on. He smiled again. "Yyyyeah, maybe wait 'til tomorrow before breakin' out the nightmare coffee."

"Understood," Louise nodded, grabbing the bag and heading through the door opposite, which lead to the stairs.

"Oh, and Lou!" dad called after her.

"Yeah?"

"Yer grandpa's up there, in the front room. He's been there for… oy, I dunno how long. Just, uh… be patient with 'im. He might not recognize ya."

Louise didn't say anything to that, simply giving a slow nod.

Sure enough, she soon made her way upstairs into familiar territory. In contrast with the store downstairs, everything upstairs seemed so familiar, she almost didn't find it especially noteworthy. It was just… the same. Or perhaps she was just too tired to think too much about it.

Well, there was the major detail that it was much darker than usual - all the blinds and curtains had been closed, coating the whole apartment in darkness. Most likely to draw attention to the large red shiva candle that was burning in the front room (along with a multitude of other candles, just so they wouldn't be fumbling around in the dark). She understood that shiva was only supposed to start after the funeral, but figured it was a compromise to avoid taking up too much business time. Possibly one of grandpa's suggestions.

Just as dad had said, her seventy-seven-year-old Grandpa Filbrick was in the front room, currently sitting up on the couch, his withered hands resting atop his cane. He'd lost his hair and moustache ages ago, and was generally a far cry from the intimidating figure she remembered from her childhood, but he still insisted on wearing suits and shades.

Louise assumed he was staring at the memorial display that had been set up where the TV usually is. It was fairly simple - a framed photo of Grandma Caryn from her younger days, with the shiva candle next to it. Even at the best of times, it was difficult to tell what grandpa's attention was drawn to. Seemed like he always went out of his way to hide it. Made her dad look like a jester.

Louise hesitated for a moment. "Hi, grandpa."

He didn't budge an inch.

"Hello, grandpa," she tried again. She knew dad told her to be patient with him. She just wanted some token acknowledgement.

He mumbled something under his breath.

Louise had been about to give up, until he turned his head slightly in her direction. That was something, she supposed.

"Do I know you?"

Oh. Oh. ...That's not good. It's gotten worse.

Louise swallowed hard. "It's me, Louise. Your granddaughter."

Filbrick made a… noise. Sounded like an annoyed grunt crossed with a sniff. "...Right, yes. Granddaughter."

He paused. Louise took the opportunity to walk over to the kitchen half of the apartment and put away her jelly beans and her sodas.

"You married yet?"

Louise sighed hard and unconsciously slammed the fridge shut, almost making herself jump. It got no reaction out of Filbrick.

"No."

"Mm-hmm," he went.

Louise decided then that she needed her nap immediately. She didn't want to snap again in front of the old man. Might give him a heart attack. Her dad didn't need to lose both his parents, even if it seemed like grandpa had been lost a long time ago.

She remembered the few times when she was a kid and Filbrick was the only one in the apartment with her. Dad and grandma seemed to go out of their way to keep that from happening, but sometimes it was unavoidable. Even then, when he was perfectly healthy, talking to him was almost like trying to talk to a statue. He wasn't mean to her or anything, he just did the absolute bare minimum to keep her satiated, and then skulked off again the moment the others came back.

She'd always assumed he just didn't know how to deal with children, but she had an inkling that there'd been an ulterior motive behind his apparent disinterest the whole time, and only now was it starting to come out. ...She wasn't sure if she preferred that or step-mom's brand of 'interest', though.

Louise soon arrived in dad's room. The room next door, which used to be Uncle Stan's room, had been converted into grandma's room (and was therefore left purposely unoccupied). Caryn and Filbrick stopped sleeping together a short time after Lou was born. Never figured out why. She'd thought about this every time she came back - for a married couple, they didn't seem to like each other that much, only tolerated each other. She suspected the only reasons neither of them just moved out was a mixture of financial concerns and pure stubbornness - neither wanted to back down. That sounded like grandma, at least.

As she tossed her duffel bag on the couch-bed that had been laid out for her, she sat down and thought some more, because she'd been refusing to do any reflection until now. She thought back to the days in San Francisco after she'd heard the news.

She hadn't been getting any sleep because she'd rather drop unconscious from exhaustion than risk calming down. She had to keep herself distracted. She fidgeted during classes, chewing on her pen (at one point she broke it open and got a mouthful of ink). Out of classes, she ate, or 'studied' - that is, she thought about pointless things like the colour of the wall or the difference between New Sub-Cola and Sub-Cola Classic, and she'd hit the punchbag in her room.

Eventually, her body would shut down. At one point her housemate Irina woke her up by smoking pot in the front room. Louise had snapped at her, yelling at her to 'take that garbage someplace else', despite not having done so in the past year they'd been living together. ...Guess that outburst with dad had some precedent.

It was definitely strange, though. Filbrick was at least consistent in his ability to imitate a brick wall. First she hears that Uncle Stan has completely changed his career choices, and now her father is hiring 'radicool' goofballs, pulling her into hugs, and openly crying in front of her. This was the same guy for whom the height of expression had been a chuckle, or a faint smile and a 'nice job, greenie', and whose advice when times were tough had been 'just bear through it'. It was obvious where he'd gotten it from, but...

Grandma had been her emotional pipeline back in LA, the one person she could be honest with, even if they were separated by the entire United States and its postal service. It stopped her from going completely crazy even at the depths of step-mom's antics. And if dad had been physically close to her, it made sense that that effect would be magnified. It'd almost be enough to convince her that she actually had real psychic powers.

...Great. Now her grandma's conning her beyond the grave. She'd have liked to know she was that good.

Louise fell asleep minutes later.

Note: Random tidbit because I couldn't think of a way to work this naturally into the story - Shermie didn't lose the use of his legs from a war injury (as many have assumed); it was caused by an infection from a nasty stab wound that went unnoticed and untreated for years until he started experiencing back pains while working as a mechanic in LA. He stubbornly refused to see a doctor about it (dismissing it as just him getting old) until it was too late and his spinal nerves were irreparably damaged. So I suppose it was a war injury, just a very slow and drawn-out one.