She looks up from her tea, at the speaker. Unfazed by the gun being pointed at her, she asks - a mildly curious tone in her voice, “Forget what?”

The look in the boy’s eyes grows wilder; his face contorts in an odd way; and his body starts trembling - with rage? She wonders. It is the most likely option. It generally always is. It’s a sad story ( Read more... )

 
( Elaine sings one last time for her master )