The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. ” She spat in his face. The discussion wandered, and was punctuated with bread and butter. My only love is for my poor lost son. There was no one else in the doorway. Maggot. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. It will be a little lonely sometimes,” she said, looking around at them, “and I shall miss you all, but it is the fairest for myself —and I think for you.
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