Shelby looked over to see Andrew silently mouthing syllables to himself, as if he were part of an ecstatic rite. He grinned as he bit fricatives and tongued plosives. He was tasting English origins, mulling over words ripped from bronze-smelling hoards. Words that had slept beneath centuries of dust and small rain, sharp and bright as scale mail. Poetry had never moved her quite so much as drama. She loved the shock of colloquy, the beat and treble of words doing what they had to on stage. Andrew preferred the echo of poems buried alive.

I'm pretty much awake now." (P) "The last time I said that, I passed out in the bathtub." (I) "I remember that. Neil covered you with towels and said that he found a mermaid." (P) "You were so beautiful, Mummy. Like Ice Bird when he freezes the pigs." (N) "Thank you, sweet." -- Ingrid, Paul and Neil.