What was real and what was fantasy? The one person who could have helped, who could have confirmed whether the swap had actually taken place, was gon..., unable to anchor my grasp of reality. The stories continued, but even they were no longer any help. My lingerie stash, destroyed in a fit of frustrated rage then carefully rebuilt many times, was a terrifying reminder of my problem. I quit dating, returning instead to the strip clubs for an attempt at some social interaction.My uncertainty. Afterward, we lay together. I felt sad, calm and content. “I won’t try anymore, I promise.” “You really worked at it,” she said. “I appreciate the effort.” “Mhm.” Time passed, I might have fallen asleep. I remember the rest of the night like a dream. “Hon?” “Hmm”, I was so close to sleep. “You missed a detail.” “Hmm?” “The guy,” “At the door?” That would have been hard to recreate. “The one that pissed me off,” she whispered. “Mhm.” “He didn’t.” “Hrm?” “I mean, he made me mad. But he didn’t. ’ ‘Maybe you should give him another chance. He would make an excellent match for you,’ he continued hoping to convince her to change her mind. ‘I do not intend to marry simply to make a good match. I intend to marry for love,’ she said brightly, placing a scone on her plate. ‘I want a husband who will love and adore me. Just like you loved and adored Mother.’ Gregory felt his heart breaking. How dearly he wished he could assure his daughter that she could do that. How he wished he had not been. " Then the lid of the box slid shut.When the delousing sprays started up, Jacqui stood quite still, but tried to avoid inhaling the odd-smelling cleaning gas. The robot voice then said, "Jacqui Mountjoy, you may replace your clothes." The box which protected them slid smoothly open. Jacqui hastily dressed.The door opened and a policebot said, "Come on."Without waiting it dragged her at break-neck speed down the corridor and pushed her through a small door which led to a large room, or rather.