She wormed her way past Sebastian, glanced at her mother’s blackened face, her obscenely naked body bulging with yellow and black buboes under the arms and in the groin that oozed stinking fluid. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. “You know what? You’re right. . My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me. She says that everyone in the house makes too much noise, my Dad snores, and that when the house is empty, the traffic noise is nearly deafening. My poor son despairs of me, for I have primed every member of the family to bring me the latest novels whenever they choose to visit. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels. He hesitated.
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