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Show 38 "On your left." Morgan was used to my middle of the night panics. I found a faint rectangle, darkness of a different color. Immediately the room swung about; imagined continents flip-flopped in my head, world geography pulled itself together with a snap. "Home," I said. "Now I remember." I closed my eyes again. The scraped place on my leg began to itch and I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but behind my eyelids cars tumbled time after time in muddy fields. "It's three o'clock in the morning," Morgan whispered, "but I can hear somebody talking." Jacob's voice was muffled. "I just can't believe he's gone. It doesn't make sense. How could he be dead? What a sad time this is." "It's a vent pipe that runs up the wall from the kitchen," I said. "We used to listen to Adam and Alice through it after they sent us up for the night." "Did you love him?" Carlo's voice, thinner, came more easily up the pipe. "That's a funny question. He was my father." "Well it doesn't matter now anyway, does it? I mean dead is dead." Carlo paused. In a more natural voice he said: "I loved him too." I nudged Morgan. "Haven't they turned out odd? Listen |