"What's the matter?" he cried. A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. Cars rushed by on the street, swerving into the middle of the two lane road to avoid the knee-deep puddles forming around sewer grates. You have neither reason nor logic. \"I don't eat lunch. The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. I think that I have become a drug drinker. ‘Yes, tell us everything at once,’ instructed Lucilla, pushing him towards the sofa she had vacated, and obliging him to sit beside her. “I’ve gotta go.
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