‘A quiche,’ she mused as she took that item out of the stove. ‘I guess Greg never read that book about real men not eating quiche.’ She realiz...d she felt quite alone now that Greg had left. While the quiche cooled, she took a quick shower, then she went upstairs and got dressed in a loose white Shaker knit sweater and jeans she’d brought from her house the night before. Then she went back downstairs to the kitchen to have something to eat. Greg flipped on the siren as soon as he hit the. Her initial horror of the scarecrow looking thing that flapped its arms as it hopped around her was mitigated by the voice of her little brother in that scarecrow image.Then, as he sat again, staring at her, she was struck by the fact that both of his eyes looked the same. The one staring at her from the dead mask on the left of his head was just as brown and alive, as the one on the normal side. And his attitude ... his voice ... his personality ... it was all familiar. His psyche had been. More

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