Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume. A coach was also in attendance, at a little distance. Gerald lifted an eyebrow. She was guided into the dock and prompted by a helpful police inspector. The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. ” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. But at the word “home” she turned again. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative.
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