Poetry
“Is he. . .” “Not dead, miss, although he’ll awake with a headache. Fortunately, that Grecian statue looks to have been hollow clay. Why keep such a thing above the door?” “He’s kept it there since my sister gave it to him as a gift, years ago. He looks upon it and mourns, though it be more than two weeks since she died.” “I see. The bolts seem to have been removed from the…