Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. ‘Me, I do not need the help of anyone. I spied a small picture of them in your house, though. We both understood that. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home. He had taken it back.
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