3

As Amy attempted to choke down the rest of her lunch she dwelled on all the possibilities why the tape made her so nervous.

One idea had been that she was simply being paranoid and that she needed to stop being so neurotic.

Another was that perhaps her continuous lack of sleep during these last few months was getting to her.

The one that was the most likely, however, was that on the tape, Mort was still alive.

It was strange to think that in Derry, Maine, United States of America, Earth, The Milky Way, Universe, Mort no longer physically existed, but in that little hollow box on a spool of recycled material Mort laughed and danced and told jokes without a care in the world save for her.

That thought, too, was painful, and the ache settled itself just above her stomach and below her breasts, making it difficult to breathe.

After the separation Amy still cared for Mort, and knew she always will, but the way she felt now was never like the way she had felt when talking to Mort on the phone, or the odd time they saw each other at legal meeting or when he came to pick up some of his things.

The twinge of emotion, though, had grown during the whole Shooter ordeal right along with her anxiety for her ex-husband. The night she had called Mort, the last time she would talk, really talk to him, Amy had been extremely confused.