“Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. ’ She shook her head sadly. The poison from the teeth radiated from her shoulder and paralyzed her limbs. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimly perceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initial barrier? A drunken idea—a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap. “There are two things to be done,” he said softly to himself.
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