"A dweeb, a Dorkzilla of a narcissist, who thought he was a peacock, a man with an ego his face could not sustain, like an 80 year old Italian woman with dyed hair, white loafers, and saccharine sayings that belied his baseless vanity. She liked them ugly, clown shows of people, just like before. Another man who craved possession ... life-sized Hot Wheels, who’d swept in just in time to use her emotions surrounding her father’s death against her. A man she had nothing in common with but a town. Oh how low, how pathetically low she had sunk in her quest for a daddy surrogate. She was incapable of learning, of spotting frauds, and always chose beneath her dignity. His eyes were dead … just like the others. But she would trade her cage for another, for pretty words without meaning, too lonely and enslaved to choosing from one lot to see him for what he was … or what he would become."