Telephone Girl
Amy stood in a small alcove off the living room of the huge house. It was the middle of the day. No one else was home. Amy was asleep. Not too long ago it was impossible for her to sleep standing up. But now she nodded off whenever she could. She was tightly fastened to an upright frame made of hand-carved mahogany. She stood at attention, on tiptoe, unable to move much of anything. ...