Prague, Czech RepublicMarch 13
Martin warily observed his wife. At first glance, she appeared more or less normal. As always, she was perfectly made up. Maybe it was the t-shirt – he hadn’t seen it on her in a while; outside of the house he was used to seeing her in a business suit. Apparently, now that she was home, she’d grown too lazy to change. Now she was wriggling uncomfortably, trying to hide the unaccustomed t-shirt under the blazer.
He’d taken her to the Volcano Complex primarily because Helena had burned the slab of filet mignon to a crisp, allegedly due to some clown on TV who claimed the government was taking all possible measures to generate economic growth. That had generated so large an explosion in his wife that she’d completely ignored Martin, even after he’d pointed out
