They unloaded Michelle’s sleeping parents who had been propped up in the back seat, necks craned against each other. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. “He wants me to have dinner at his parent’s house tonight,” still looking at a series of spots on the carpeting. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. "I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile. ” “You—you did what?” Anna exclaimed.
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