I ? ed over her ? ? at the ? ? ? een. Dimensions, micro- ? , macro- tha? ? and space a? ? ? . All the elements. "I couldn't begin to tell you."
"She died on Christma? e," she said. "What a sh? night f? he family. Like God said? istmas D? ? ? ? ."
I leaned back in m? gonomic chair. "Well, wh? ith ? le dying all over the world all the time, od? ould? ty good ? ... "
Cam flung up a hand, f? talling the ? of ? entence. "Jesus, I know." Th? he looked back at me, he? raight brown hair fallin? er her face. "What the odds, ? ay? One ? hree hundred? ty-five?? />
"For an individual without any mitigating c? msta? ? re."
"What do? mean?"
I chewed on my pencil. "Well, it depends on a pretty larg? ? of variables. The more info? ion you ? abo? he i? idua? he better you can pinpoi? ? robability of that i? idual's ? h on? istmas Eve."
? 're kidding, right."
"Well, no. Statistic? speaking, more ? le in We? n so? ies die ? ? he holidays than at any other time of the year, although midsummer c? close. Add ? o th? he i? idual's ? ional well-being, th? ate of famil? ? ? ? uality of medical care, the patient's medical hi? y, of course? ior asso? ? ? h the season ... " T? enci? ? ered. After ? lled the wooden ? ds out o? ? th, I continued, "Actually, I'd say the probability ? his ? 's dying on Christma? ? ? her like? o be much be? than one in? ? ? ? e."
S? ? ed in her chair and ? ed at me. "I? bt it."
"Sure," Id, mumbling ? ? ? adde? ? sue I'd ? ? ? gums to soa? the blood. "I'm? ? tatistician,? way. She? pagan?"
"Yeah. Like ? other girl I to? ou a? up in P? ylvania. The one who? accidentally killed and? ? band dec? ated himself? erward?"
"Oh, yeah. Wow."? ulled the ti? t an? imac? ? urably at the co? y taste, rubbing my tongue against my palate to rid it o? r. "? ? t of poems -- ?"
"I dunno. I don't think she had any." She leaned back in? chair a? ? ed fiddling with? en. "It ? see? o be a g? ? heme, you know?"
? do you ? s on the pagans,? way?? />
She looked up at me. "Why do you focus on a? opol? ts?"
"I d? know. S? ? they ha? ? ? equests for ? ? ion.? />
"She knew she was going to die?"
She ? ed her mouth and? eared to be annoyed ? he i? in front of? >"No? least, I doubt it. ? as just something sh? uck in h? ill ? in case."
I ? ? ? ted.
? ? see? I d? ? agans," and with tha? ? urned ba? o her co? er, ? ing ? ? ll i? er.
What ? of a so? ? it ? predicates its ? ival on the ? ? ion ? ? -science, yet engenders ? bculture that partakes in some form of n? e-worship common? centuri? ? to the Enlightenment, o? ? t a finer point on i? ome kind of animism ? ? train found in o? pecies going back thousands ? ? ? almost seem? egre? e, although ? ? tle I'd pick? ? om Cam and h? resent o? sion? tainly didn't gi? mpression of Ludditism.
In fact, she'd hinted at some kind of tec? aganism, which, I imagined, involved spells enacted by c? ter,? ernet co? , an? ? lai? on h? by burning ? ? ? ? ? hey ? zled and stank in the dark.
When I go? the? t morning, I? nd Cam at the co? er.
"? ? oman. Did you not co? o bed last n? ?"
"Hm?" She glanced up. "Oh, yeah, for a? ple ? s. I keep coming back to Pennsylvania."
I? nted and walked into the? chen. Toast. Toa? as good.? be a fried egg. "What's wrong with her?"
? hing in ? icul she said. "? st keep finding more? ff."
I scraped the eg? t of the pan? o th? ead. "Li? hat?? />
"Yeah." Something ? rred to me, and I poked my head out ? he kitchen. "Did? want something?? />
"Hmm." Cam half-crouching in the chair,? left knee drawn up to her chin. She looked at me and scrunched up her face. "I don't know. ? t?"
"Dry,? ter, sugar, cinnamon?"
"Mm. Butter will do."
I? the hint an? cked back in? he kitchen. ? e was the cinnamon? "So ? kind of? ff?"
"A friend's blog? ? aid. "Th? ? ? , ra? . I'm sort of reading ba? ? ? he last few ? hs. She had a pet name f? he girl who died, th? ? clo? hey were."
"What was she like?" T? ? ? ent ? proing. ? econd thought, I add? ome cinnamon to a banana? muffor myself.
There? ? ause, then, "Which one?"
"The executor."
"Oh." The? as anoth? ause, lo? this time. When I handed her her toast, she had? ensive look on her face.? 's hard to d? ibe.? o a lot ? tuff, I ? s. Reading, video games, pag? ? olya? ? ugs. That's a big one, d? . She sm? a lot of pot."
I? ? n in my chair and began munching my egg sandwich. "Y? hink she's a domino?? />
She? ? o a piece of cinnamon toast. "Mmm. Umm, mm." She shook her head quickly.
? ? ?"
Sh? allowed. "Major ? ort ? A couple? friends and girlfriends,? s a husband and a younge? other. Plus she seems to be ? ? ell-collected and self-aware. Not a good candidate."
"That's good ... I g? ."
She shrugged. ? some reason, I'm more f? ed on the world she was ? han on her d."
I was quiet for a few ? tes, except for the smacking. I put the ? y plate on my co? er desk and pick? p th? ffin. "Do yo? ? onder sometimes? Abo? he collection?"
She couldn't ? my ? . "Yeah.? />
"Why?"
S? hrugged ? he c? ter screen next to her. t. A? of stuff goes into one ? hese? t we? t sort of ... ki? ? 's kind ? eird. Makes ? onder if ... "
"If what?"
She finally made eye con? , and she was afraid. "If there's something wrong wi? s." Then she? mped in her chair.
I nodd? lowly. "Maybe." I go? , and went over ? he armoi? here we ? the col? ion. Wen? ? o Cam's ? ? and removed the? ? d lock. Did the same to mine. Sat down i? chair. ? ght.
I looked at her face, resting on? kne? ? ded in her hair. The? ? ruth. I would have liked to ? ch her, but ? e wa? iden? o consider. Then again, ? did it ? er? ? as done.
No. Why ? ? te anything else? Th? ffin? gone.
The silence filled the room.
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