He had, up till now, been satisfied with the security the small box next to the front door provided. But this was no longer true, another piece had fallen out of the puzzle, another shoelace undone in the world's irresponsible daily turnings.

she does not like people. Maybe she has learnt in some small way to love them, but liking them came at a different price, an exorbitant risk to take for something one might not really want. Every Sunday, she struggles to understand the seemingly similar pieces of humanity and fails utterly. I see, I hear, I do not understand. Her own frailty prevents her from trying what she thinks will end in utter and complete disaster and humiliation. Her heart, at risk of growing cold- she is too wicked to succumb.