She attacked me with a carving-knife, and, when I had disarmed her, the jade bit off a couple of fingers from my left hand. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. He flipped the television off. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour. Once before—but that had been different. ‘You are dead, you,’ he yelled back, leaping into the seat of the final pew. She had had two days of employment-seeking now. We don’t consider each other; we needn’t.
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