” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. He would have to go on; he would be forced to enact all the obligations he had imposed upon himself. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. She saw Lucy darkening her doorstep and stood from the recliner. She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity.
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