She regarded the young man coldly. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. At this gate two paths meet. “I will tell you when to stop. John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. She tied the obi clumsily about her waist, then gently laid her hand on the bowed head. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped.
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