The Night Eleanor Switched On the Clippers Was the Night Three Years of House Payments Came to an End

“You look like a patient on a hospital ward.”

“I’m going down to the kitchen,” I said, walking past both of them down the hall without brushing either wall.

Daniel trailed three steps behind me, the heels of his slippers slapping the hardwood.

“Mariana, hang on a minute.

We never said you had to shave off the whole thing.”

“It’s much neater this way,” I said, reaching the foot of the stairs.

The kitchen was cold, lit only by the little yellow bulb over the electric stove.