Pack your bags, I can’t take care of you, Marita, I seriously cannot take care of you, you have no idea what this is. I don’t either, but I sense, I know, I always knew, that the end is coming and they sought you out. But I can’t let them, not you: if anything happens to you I won’t be able to forgive myself. And something’s going to happen. Get out. You’re crazy, Marita sobbed, we have to call your shrink, and while she cried, Gaspar started to empty out her drawers and pull her clothes from the closet, and to fill the suitcases they had so recently unpacked when they’d moved into that
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