She obeyed, extending her arm. Lucy did her best to avoid talking about it, but the subject was beguiling, as it almost always brought news about him from the grapevine within which Michelle was intravenously entwined. "Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. “I might go home, I don’t know. “That’s suicidal bullshit, Lucy. Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. So you took my womb away, you took my baby! So I could be a monster! Because she was a monster! We are monsters!” He grabbed the top of the cannon away from her face. Presently he felt motion.
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