"What's so funny," Red asked.
I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth, but the shakes were coming and this time they wouldn't be deferred. I wheeled from the chair and charged for the door. Willy was up and grabbing at my arm.
"Don't go, Jim! Please! I've only started to—"
I swung around at him and threw his hand off, panic making my actions loose. Then I saw his spaniel eyes, sad, pleading. I glowered at him and ran my hand through my hair. Looking back at the pint-sized beauty I socked my fist into my hand and stalked back to the drawing desk. I reached out for her. She squeaked and cowered away.
Willy let out a holler that just about scared the pants off both of us, and was tugging at my arm again.
"I just want to touch her," I roared. "I won't kill her."
"You touch her like that and you will kill her," Willy cried. "Sit down, will you? Listen to me—"
"If I can feel her with my hands," I said, still whoozy but cooling down, "I'll believe she's there. Otherwise I go home and sleep it off." I rubbed my forehead. "This kind of stuff isn't for me, kid. You keep your bloody mirages—"
"Please, Jim."