” She paused, and he waited for her to speak. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. But he does not come to see me since three days, even that these are my affairs and one could think that he would tell it to me if there is news, no?’ ‘When he has news to tell he will come, child, trust me,’ the old lady assured her. She began by being interested in his demonstrations and his biological theory, then she was attracted by his character, and then, in a manner, she fell in love with his mind. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. "I should call it putting him out of the way. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered. But we smirk a little, I’m afraid, habitually when we talk to you. Only three days. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others.
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