The Vacu-fuck Pro makes a sputtering sound that I associate closely with cartoon machinery. It's probably a sound Mel Blanc recorded in the 1940s.
I remember feeling ill at ease releasing a panel with nothing but a character in empty space, surely something was missing. But it's grown in my heart since as a memorable visual. The way her sweater drapes, the presence of the phone, the dark shadow on her, it all works for me.
None of the photos in this chapter are meant to be traced to an exact moment - just a little context for the people we've come to know. In Hanna's case she's always been seen as one of the boys, a cool customer, no hint of a person who might be searching or lost.