Chapter 39There were still people outside, Marie thought, turning away from the window, glancing accusingly at the unplugged radio, at the silent television. At her back, Christmas rose once more, satisfied with their work, and she turned, a mournful sigh escaping her lips as she looked down at the tatami, at the scratchy, scrabbly handwriting that decorated the floor of her home, poorly written kana, unfamiliar kanji, and, now and again, some kind of rune of which she stood no chance of interpreting.
“I apologize,” Christmas said, their voice deep, full of discomfort.
Marie looked towards them, forcing a small, tight smile to her lips, and shrugged.
“Well, I guess it can’t be helped, right?”
She was quiet for a moment. From the other room, she could hear the voices of the two children
