The skies became brilliant; the dry monsoon was setting in. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. She had often wondered if Hoddy would ever go back to it. The dress was her mother's, and she was wearing it to save a little extra money. You are different, Lucia, undamaged even after what you have been through, still pure of heart. She went about the gory business of disposing of the bodies, cutting them up with a large butcher knife and packing the light dry pieces of their bloodless remains in a double ply garbage bag, pieces that looked like overcooked, ruined meat. But it’s love you should’ve had when you were tiny and I didn’t give it to you.
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