Driven to my office; he banished the split mark, careful with the yardage, thickening the porridge, turning patiently over witless patted cakes. Upstairs tossed a bed-rid, a luckless fool driving her elbow into a pile of re-swept ash as the dog bites his own shoulder. Up against the bureau scratched with pull-stops, I jammed the oncoming fit with smoothing, sucked even the sops. The water in the little tureen turned glassy, then solidified as the light fell away from it. "Do you want me to open the blinds? It's darker outside now."