Only the fiddles and flutes remained. I couldn’t think clearly enough to question how she had controlled the door and the lights. She said, ‘You�...re another matter. You need to be taken care of.’ She put her arm around me and drew me close to her. I nuzzled against her soft sweater, my hand resting just below her right breast. She stroked my hair. ‘I could feel the sickness within you the moment you walked in the door,’ she said. ‘The stress. The loneliness. These things will kill you as easily. The others were capering about in a silly routine with the audience nervously laughing. One fat chap was demanding of anyone who came close ‘Too much, I want it cheaper.’ Another victim was selling ice cream from an imaginary tray and it seemed to be melting from the way she was frantically reacting. She tried to sell her imaginary wares to everyone and the fat man made her particularly frenzied. Is your wife a prude or is she game for a laugh?’ He asked. Knowing the man meant Mary, Jim. More

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