The sound of the air-con cooling the room blended with the distant noise of traffic and people going on about their lives. If Christopher was one to cry about the fairness of life, he would have complained about how unfair it was that others were laughing and seemingly unbothered by anything, while the story in his house was so dark and gloomy.
He and Thomas sat next to each other at the dining table, watching Jane from a distance. The heavy silence hanging in the house from lack of conversation was like dark smoke. Both men did not know what to do as they waited.
Jane was seated on the couch closest to the window. She looked out the glass towards the gate as though expecting her son to walk in any second. Her knees were tucked tightly against her chest with her arms wrapped around them
