‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. His mouth was sensuous but his eyes became frenetic. "My name is Ruth Enschede. “Dear me!” he said. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. " "True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recollections of the day before crowded, "I know it isn't. He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought.
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