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First published August 31, 2000
Senna has what you might call flexible morals: whatever she does to other people is fine; what anyone does to her is unforgivable.
I wanted to scream. It was insane. It was incredible, bizarre. The story of my life was about her not making enough money? That was it? With all the bull she'd fed my father, she just wanted to run away so she wouldn't have to get a job?
I took a deep breath, tried to slow the spinning in my head. I pressed my hands against my temples. I was an inconvenience, that was the basic truth. Oh yes, all the rest of it, oh yes, she had felt the pressure of the powers who sought a gateway, but that was more of an excuse than an explanation. She'd been afraid of Loki, of all the predatory gods, but that wasn't the truth of it, that was just the gloss on the truth. The truth was that she was just a loser, a misfit, a selfish woman looking for an easier life.