Have you ever voted, Mr. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. ‘Melusine…Melusine. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it.
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