She heard the television blaring away. “Ann Veronica,” he said, “I tell you this is love. But, after all, what does that matter? He is very much taken with me. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. Perhaps that was why Sheila began to observe Lucy, because both of them were poignantly aware of Lucy’s otherness. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still.
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