This is my last week at the ‘Unusual,’ you know. I have yet another. We met dissecting dogfish. On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. Sebastianus gave Marina tonics and barred Lucia from touching her mother, who yelled in her Gypsy tongue at Lucia to stay away, save the baby. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them.
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