Sister letters
Once I came back home, I sheltered into my bedroom, while my mother kept on talking and Philip answered her in monosyllables.
My mother had never tolerated her son-in-law; in fact, she had often spoken to him in terms of reproach, but they seemed to go very well together now.
It seemed like he did not want to do without the domestic that tidied up his house and cleaned his precious uniforms, while she did not want to have what she considered a problem in her family.
I heard my mother’s footsteps come close to my bedroom, so I pretended to be sleeping in order not to be obliged to say hello to her or hear her voice giving me lessons of life once again.
She went away.
Shortly afterwards, Philip entered my bedroom.
He did not even take pains to check whether I was awake
