Pictures (OZ, Shirley Bellinger)
She remembers the pictures. Color images that the district attorney passed around the courtroom. Exhibits of a death in such stark contrast to a life.
The child’s doll that had gotten hung up mid-float on the steering wheel, separated at last from the girl that clung to her so desperately every night.
Her hair, tangled, hung limply in thick ropes. It was always a source of maternal pride. No finer strands than you’d ever seen, she said.
Pale arms and legs in stark contrast to the handmade dress the girl was wearing. She could have told them of the time and care that went into making that dress.
Eyes staring blankly out ahead, lips acquiring a bluish tint. The life had gone out of them. Her warm, loving daughter was so cold.
Shirley’s heart aches at the memory, then she decides that her memories are false – a trick of the devil to make her doubt that her actions were right.
Bucket List (Leverage, Parker)
Parker never had what most people referred to as “a bucket list”. For one thing, listing things took time and required maintenance. First, you needed basic equipment – a pencil and paper – because lists in the mind could be easily forgotten and why would you want to forget something that you wanted to do before you died? Second, you needed to hang onto the list – to keep it in a safe place where it couldn’t be caught by the wind or the occasional explosion. Third, you actually had to look at the stupid thing from time to time and cross off things that you’d done and things that you didn’t want to waste your time doing anymore and add things that had suddenly become so important that you had to do them.
But what was the point of making a list of things that you wanted to do when you could actually get out there and do them?
Well, except for winning the Nobel Prize, but she could always steal that.
What They Didn't See (Louise Sawyer, Thelma & Louise)
People never looked below the surface. They saw her, the waitress. They saw the tired eyes, and the slight grimace when she’d been on her feet too long. On a good day, they were greeted with a warm, unforced smile and a sultry laugh. They saw a woman, a servant, someone to be looked past unless they wanted another cup of coffee.
She never minded these things. They didn’t see the ex-con, the woman who’d experienced the unthinkable and had done the unthinkable in return. They didn’t notice the occasional hesitation in her steps, the cautious glances at the door every time the bell signaled a new customer, didn’t see the shaking hands or the clenched fingers any time one of the male patrons made a pass. They saw what they wanted to see and missed everything else.
That may have been what led to all those problems in Texas, but she could never be sure.