“You’re late this morning, Odd Thomas.” Invariably she uses both names. I sometimes suspect she thinks Odd is not a name but a royal title, like Prince or Duke, and that protocol absolutely requires that it be used by commoners when they address me. Perhaps she thinks that I am the son of a deposed king, reduced to tattered circumstances but nonetheless deserving of respect. I said, “Late, yes, I’m sorry. It’s been a strange morning.” She doesn’t know about my special relationship with the deceased. She’s got enough problems without having to worry about dead people making pilgrimages to her
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