“No, no,” I said weakly, “I was just playing around. It was stupid. I’ll be fine, really.” They wanted to call a psychiatrist, but I assured them there was no need, that I was perfectly OK. Ultimately, and reluctantly, they allowed us to leave. Shaken and somewhat fragile (and completely mystified at myself ), I left the hospital with Peter, both of us wondering what on earth had just happened. We talked about it for days afterward, and then gradually the intensity of the feelings and the experience seemed to fade. When I thought about it at all, it was with confusion and a growing sense of
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