B: The dampness gets in so. Mold everywhere.

And rot.

A: I called my brother yesterday.

B: You have a brother?

A: 33 years.

B: The carpets are ruined, the photographs stained.

Some afternoons I can't breathe. Look how the skin splits.

A: Yes, cracks apart. Blood across continents, flesh stretched thin over centuries.

B: You understand.

A: He wasn't home. Dead maybe.

B: You don't.

A: Maybe joined the circus. Or wanted by the law.

B: Do you think it will stop?

A: No.