I flip Judith over and find her on switch. I move it to the right, turn her back over, and then with one eye, she blinks at me. Blinks again. And then . . . wails. “Dear Christ,” I say, tossing her on the table, which only makes her wail even louder. “What are you doing?” Huxley asks. “You’re drawing attention to us.” “Not on purpose.” “Why is she so loud?” he asks, picking her up by the leg. “Because she has one eye and isn’t happy about life,” I answer while looking around. “I don’t think you should hold her like that.”
