Mona’s dead, but we’re the ones who feel like ghosts. Francine says, “I’m just empty space surrounded by pressure.”

Francine’s been on a coke spree since they carted Mona’s body off. Her personality has gone from abrasive to jagged: a pore with a broken glass edge.

I haven’t done the stuff for years, but seeing Francine high makes me suddenly horny and repulsed. If I turn her upside and shake her, will coke snow out? 

Francine closes her eyes and says, “I couldn’t be any higher, but it’s no fun because I’m working so hard. I’m trying to call David back here.”