Gerald’s chest tightened. She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield. “Why waste yourself, John?” 241 < 31 > THE CONCERT Martin Chen showed up early for the pre-concert warm-up at 5:00. ‘Quite mad, nuns are. ‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing. ” There was a moment’s silence. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. She could feel Martin’s eyes boring into her as she entered the room, her own personal Farhat.
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