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Lit only by a single emergency light, the station felt unsettled, like a thick jungle on a moonless night. All of its features threw long, black shado...s. Even the pips on a braille sign lit at a low angle of incidence seemed sinister and haunted, reaching out with their inky tendrils. That darkness you always see far away down a subway tunnel crept forward into the station, emboldened by the night. By day, the careless clamor of passengers ruled this domain, but by night, everything belonged to. Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned. From his work, The Mourning Bride.”“Never heard of it or him,” Rachael informed him.Grandpa grinned, his eyes twinkling. “And yet you know the words, more or less. Shows you the power of well written literature.”Rachael shrugged. “What’s in the box?”Grandpa looked inside as he walked towards the kitchen. “Shirts, and a sock.”Rachael followed him into the big kitchen. He dumped the box on the table and moved to. More

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