Because of the series of killings and the village head’s announcement about having a curfew, all women—young and old—could no longer leave their houses after dawn. All obeyed, except one—Natalie.
With pupils dilated inside her darkroom, Natalie stirred in her bed, arguing whether to sleep or not, until all the lights in the house were switched off, and she was in total darkness. Seeing only the lights coming from the garden was her cue that Damian had finally retired to bed after his me-time on the balcony with his tobacco and several shots of rum. Natalie would often remind him of the health risks of his habits—she preferred to call it that way rather than use the word vices because she associated that word with bad people—but he would just laugh at her, explaining doing such every night
