"Look over there." He pointed to a small Wall. "They're alive and performing, aren't they, Mrs. Davis?"
She looked at the Wall. Alice and Lester were planting a small rose bush together.
"You see, occasionally women do suffer from delusions like yours," he said. "But now that you've recovered, I'll drive you home. After a quiet night you'll forget all this."
"They aren't delusions," she insisted. "I did it, with my husband's gun. I waited until they closed the door, then I aimed—I know I did it."
"Yes, certainly," he said, leading her to the door. "Now come along home, Mrs. Davis."
She continued to protest, but he pulled her through the corridors and down the steps to a waiting car. He nudged her into the front seat.
They passed darkened buildings. She saw the neon sign atop the Herald offices ahead. If no one knew she'd killed them, no one would awaken. No one would live again. The world would end after all.
She opened the door and jumped from the moving car. Stumbling, she ran toward the Herald offices.
She stumbled into the building and began seeking through its bright corridors. Stopping to stare at each office door, she finally found the one labeled "Editorial. Mr. Gray." She pushed into the office.