CHAPTER FIFTY ONE
January 31
5:05 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
A Living Room
Brooklyn, New York
The TV squawked in a corner of the room. On the screen, a sexy young model with plumped-up lips eyed a new red Lexus as it drove by in slow motion, while some sort of disco dance music played.
The old woman sat in her favorite chair, half-watching the television, half-listening to her friend talking to her on the phone.
“I told them all I’m eighty years old,” she said to her friend. “Where am I going to run? If the terrorists are going to flood the city, I’ll go upstairs. If the water keeps rising, I’ll drown. So be it. I’ve lived long enough. And you know? It didn’t happen anyway. It never does. I think they exaggerate these things just to sell newspapers.”
On the TV screen, the New York–
