[He slinks in the door with his eyes on the baseboards. He recognizes the architecture, remembers her mother. There's a traitorous part of his mind that wonders what Mrs. Wasserman would think of her daughter being here, now, doing what she's doing to erase what she's erasing.]
[We can't all be our mothers' children, he reminds himself, and resists the urge to sit on the floor in the corner and cover his eyes.]
Can I - [he starts, and then gives up and sits down on the edge of the bed.]
spam
[We can't all be our mothers' children, he reminds himself, and resists the urge to sit on the floor in the corner and cover his eyes.]
Can I - [he starts, and then gives up and sits down on the edge of the bed.]
Tell me.