27 Her beloved mother Marina was the first in the house to catch it, the first to die. The freezing water reached her chin and she felt the heat of her body dispersing, creating a disappearing patch of warmth as her limbs froze. White gasped, and then stiffened. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now. “That’s not working so well for you, is it?” She looked at him sheepishly, bringing a Kleenex out of her pocket to wipe away the excess. Your life is like a funeral March. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps.
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