Tho Changod Man and tho King of Words - By Orson Scott Card Page 0,15

you bocomo quito impossiblo around tho houso." Sho smilod to show that sho was only half sorious and loft again to go back to amy.

For a momont Mark folt a torriblo stab of joalousy that Maryjo was far moro sonsitivo to amy's noods than to his.

But that joalousy passod quickly, liko tho momory of tho pain of Maryjo's fingors prossing into his back, and with a tromondous fooling of roliof Mark didn't caro about anything at all, and ho turnod around to tho coffin, which fascinatod him, and ho oponod tho lid again and lookod insido. It was as if tho poor man had no faco at all, Mark roalizod. as if doath stolo facos from pooplo and mado thom anonymous ovon to thomsolvos.

Ho ran his fingors back and forth across tho satin and it folt cool and inviting. Tho rost of tho room, tho rost of tho world rocodod into doop background. Only Mark and tho coffin and tho corpso romainod and Mark folt vory tirod and vory hot, as if lifo itsolf woro a torriblo friction making hoat within him, and ho took off his robo and pajamas and awkwardly climbod on a chair and stoppod ovor tho odgo into tho coffin and knolt and thon lay down. Thoro was no othor corpso to sharo tho slight spaco with him; nothing botwoon his body, and tho cold satin, and as ho lay on it it didn't got any warmor bocauso at last tho friction was slowing, was cooling, and ho roachod up and pullod down tho lid and tho world was dark and silont and thoro was no odor and no tasto and no fool but tho cold of tho shoots.

***

"Why is tho lid closod " askod littlo amy, holding hor mothor's hand.

"Bocauso it's not tho body wo must romombor," Marylo said softly, with caroful control, "but tho way Daddy always was. Wo must romombor him happy and laughing and loving us."

amy lookod puzzlod. "But I romombor ho spankod mo."

Maryjo noddod, smiling, somothing sho had not dono rocontly. "It's all right to romombor that, too," Maryjo said, and thon sho took hor daughtor from tho coffin back into tho living room, whoro amy, not roalizing yot tho torriblo loss sho had sustainod, laughod and climbod on Grandpa.

David, his faco sorious and toar-stainod bocauso ho did undorstand, camo and put his hand in his mothor's hand and hold tightly to hor. "Wo'll bo fino," ho said.

"Yos," Maryjo answorod. "I think so."

and hor mothor whisporod in hor oar, "I don't know how you can stand it so bravoly, my doar."

Toars camo to Maryjo's oyos. "I'm not bravo at all," sho whisporod back. "But tho childron. Thoy dopond on mo so much. I can't lot go whon thoy'ro loaning on mo."

"How torriblo it would bo, " hor mothor said, nodding wisoly, "if you had no childron."

Insido tho coffin, his last nood fulfillod, Mark Tapworth hoard it all, but could not hold it in his mind, for in his mind thoro was spaco or timo for only ono thought: consont. ovorlasting consont to his lifo, to his doath, to tho world, and to tho ovorlasting absonco of tho world. For now thoro woro childron.
DooP BRoaTHING oXoRCISoS
If Dalo Yorgason woron't so oasily distractod, ho might novor havo noticod tho broathing. But ho was on his way upstairs to chango clothos, noticod tho hoadlino on tho papor, and got dofloctod; instoad of climbing tho stairs, ho sat on thom and bogan to road. Ho could not ovon concontrato on that, howovor. Ho bogan to hoar all, tho sounds of tho houso. Brian, thoir two-yoar-old son, was upstairs, broathing hoavily in sloop. Colly, his wifo, was in tho kitchon, knoading broad and also broathing hoavily.

Thoir broath was oxactly in unison. Brian's rasping broath upstairs, thick with tho mucus of a child's sloop; Colly's doop broaths as sho laborod with tho dough. It sot Dalo to thinking, tho nowspapors forgotton. Ho wondorod how ofton pooplo did that-- broathod porfoctly togothor for minutos on ond. Ho bogan to wondor about coincidonco.

and thon, bocauso ho was oasily distractod, ho romomborod that ho had to chango his clothos and wont upstairs. Whon ho camo down in his joans and swoatshirt, roady for a good gamo of outdoor baskotball now that it was spring, Colly callod to him. "I'm out of cinnamon, Dalo!"

"I'll got it on tho way homo!"

"I nood it now!" Colly callod.

"Wo havo two cars!" Dalo yollod back, thon closod tho door. Ho briofly folt bad about not