Life was easier for Margret with out her father around. She sat with Mazurka at her knee and she sneezed again. Margret laid down in a coughing fit. She thought back on her fathers departure. John didn't leave the car but sat still in the dark truck. She knew he couldn't see her face. Her father gave her a small hug, possibly a thank you but Margret wasn't sure. When John drove away Margret might have seen him look back a little. But it was all muddled and she decided not to dwell on the details.

She had heard of the poor fortune tellers death. It was to bad; she had heard she was pretty good. She wondered if she predicted her own death. Margret would have liked to have that skill, to predict deaths. It would have come in handy. Margret curled up in the covers and began to fall asleep.