Fiorella can out-theorize conspiracy theorists any day of the week. She dwells in the land of perpetual what-if.
What if that sound in the middle of the night is a burglar, or a serial killer, or a vampire, or a zombie, or the house falling apart, or an alien invasion, or the end of the world or a sound she's made up in her head because she's totally insane and always has been? What if she's not really human, but a simulacrum someone concocted? What if she actually died years ago, and she's on perpetual rerun? What if no one is real but her? What if she's actually a creature in an experimental zoo?
Had enough? Well, along the experimental line, what if Fio was rigged up and given her life's difficulties just to see how much one person could take? What if she was exchanged for another baby at birth? What if she is living several lives at the same time, and each time she dies in one of those other lives, there are less lives left till her final demise?
Let's get a little less paranoid. What if one of those sparkly rocks in her driveway is really a precious gem? What if her dog actually does understands English? What if Fio can relieve people's pain with warmth radiating from her hands?
And then there are the what-if's that refer to the past, Fio's and others. And, of course, the glory and the ignominy of the future. And the ones that pop up whenever she walks out of the house or gets in a car or talks to someone or reads a book or watches television or gets on the computer or writes or eats or sings or DOES ANYTHING OR DOESN'T DO ANYTHING.
And that's just the beginning.