The scary thing was, the more she tried to imagine it, the more plausible it became. Terrifyingly plausible.

"I can't promise you that chance," she near-whispered. "I can't even..."

She couldn't even manage things with Jack. Not even when she tried to do everything by the book. Keep house? Keep a man? Make a life? It all seemed so impossible lately.

The ribbon around her throat began to itch terribly. The healing skin did that sometimes. She reached for the book.

"My body is not behaving correctly." That was blurted out. "I mean," she hurriedly corrected, "it is not responding to...

It would be very challenging."