She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. And now, when you come at last, you bring me this grandfather, and you dare to tell me I am like him. Mike dismissed her with a wave, and she left the room, knowing she could not say anything to please him she swiftly left the room. It was Jack, wasn’t it?’ ‘Aye, s-sir.
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