Mrs. Walker's monologue had become background noise to Simon, accompanying the awkward atmosphere in the kitchen. No one was talking about real things. The neighbors, Kieren's sister's school, work, the morning paper, the weather — that was all that was discussed at this table.

Simon was bored. Simon was disappointed. He caught Jemima's eye. She rolled her eyes. Unlike their parents, she did not deny his older brother's sexuality. But she stubbornly refuses to accept as true the fact that she is sitting at the same table with two dead men. Simon chuckled. He looked at Kieren's hand on the table. It was too far away. If he reached out to touch it, it would be noticeable.

"Simon," Mrs. Walker repeated insistently.

"What?" he asked, surprised, only now noticing that the woman was addressing him.

Now, now she would ask the most important thing. Simon turned to her, expressing his attention.

"How do you like your dinner today? Do you want some more chicken?" she asked, putting a caring smile on her face.

Simon raised his eyebrows. He couldn't take it anymore. Why does she just act like he's alive? Like he can eat and offering him more chicken doesn't seem like a cruel joke?

"My body can't handle food. And doesn't need it."