He liked Faith, even if he didn’t think about it. And he liked being with her when they slept. And he was really learning to like looking at her now... Barely to be heard, from the front bedroom, he heard a familiar sound. His foster parents' bed was squeaking. And through the door, closed between the rooms, he heard his Debby's voice. Begging, it seemed, for something harder, harder. He heard it often when Fred was at home from working. He planned to find exactly what they were doing. If he. There was a superb marble fireplace deep into the wall, you could enter it, cook on it for twenty people. In front of it were two black old sofas and a tiny table with matches, newspaper... Logs and logs of dry wood rested on the left and in a box more newspapers and splinters, bits of wood, all he needed to make a fire the size of a burning heart. He took his drenched heavy traditional coat, the so called samarra, hanging it on a chair by the first table where his hat found rest too. The wool. More

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