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Subject 375
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Год написания книги
2018
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Today, Patricia returns dangling a white envelope.
I look up. ‘I have informed you already I do not want a pen pal.’
‘This isn’t a pen pal, Doc.’ She holds out the letter. An unmistakable blue embossment is stamped on the underside.
Patricia thrusts it to me. ‘It’s from—’
‘My mother.’
I take the envelope and immediately my hands betray me, wobbling, slippery. I steady myself as much as I can and study the paper. Green ink. Mont Blanc fountain pen. Only the best for Mother. My pulse speeds up. It is a long time since I have heard any word from home, since I have spoken to Mama, to my brother, my prison sentence breaking them, rendering them mute, the two of them blinking in the sunlight, shielding their eyes, knowing with me there is a storm on its way and that the clouds will always be black.
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