The funeral, it has just been said, took place on that day. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. Her lips were dry and cracked. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Besides, you cannot tell where it will end. The elemental woman was always close to the cat: as the elemental man was always but a point removed from the wolf. No man knew whence she had come nor why. A thousand dollars is a lot of money for an author to earn. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. She put back her hood in a determined way.
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