She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. She could stow away, go to a place where there were no people to eat and end her life. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones.
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