The Narcissist's Daughter
Chapter One
On Tuesday and Friday mornings in the spring of 1979, end of that era of denim suits and leather sport coats and, of course, disco, I had a class called Ethics. I didn't care much for the vagueness of the humanities but the pre-med degree required a certain number of hours in the liberal arts and old Dr. Masterson, my semiretired adviser, had suggested this one. I didn't see how these obscure discussions would help one day when I had to decide whether to pull the plug on some poor failed body but it wasn't especially difficult to read the texts and fill up the blue books.
The campus was nearly walking distance from the city's estate section, which, as it happened after class one fine warm musk-on-the-air heart-of-spring Friday morning, I drove into. I'd learned a few days earlier that my boss, or rather the boss o ... read full excerpt from The Narcissist's Daughter: A Novel ebook
