Page 176 of Crank (Crank 1)

the state of my being or my

part in its disintegration? No

way to elude the bitter bite of

blame

I tried to lay the night’s

events on anyone but myself.

Couldn’t. I had tried to

play

Brendan, and he had turned

the tables. He was a grand

master player. I was new to

the game.

The Game Replayed

over and over

all night lon

g,

like a cable TV horror flick.

I laid in bed, memorizing

every scene,

every line,

every plot twist.

Finally sunshine

trickled through

the blinds.

Dust danced in its beams.

The house filled with the everyday.

Footsteps.

Voices.

Coffee. Perfume.

Nothing new.

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