She could think of nothing more to say. Lucy stared like an automaton at Michelle’s unconscious 262 body, revolted at her own actions to the point of shock. Wood fancied he recognised. He cherished her. “Hey John, how’s it going?” “Hey Michelle. She makes me feel terribly old-fashioned. I finally got my own set of house keys when I turned eleven. ‘As for you—’ ‘Do not address me. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. I might as well be at Morningside Park.
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