"Yes." he answered."I think I'd like to hear that poem. Would you read it to me?" She sounded uncertain, her voice husky."Yes." His voice was firm."We...l then ... bring it with you." She turned and went on.Robby already had it in the pocket of his robe. He followed her.When he got to the studio she was already behind the easel, looking at the painting. He dropped his robe and went to stand by the column. The hair light was on, so he could see the words easily. She could also see that he was half. “What’s the difference?”He looked at Glenn and said, “Do you want to explain it?”Glenn grumbled and shook his head. “I doubt either of us could explain properly, given he’s not dead.”“Well, we could help him with that,” said the simpler one.“Whoa!” I said, feeling the need to speak up. “No. No, you’re not going to help me with being dead.” I looked from one to the other. “How about you explain why you’re here instead?”Mr. help-me-to-be-dead shrugged his shoulders as if it made no difference to. More

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