-You're certainly right to judge me, Nicky. At my age...after all…You remember that..lady I told you about, right?

-'some' old woman Clyde? — the teenager muttered casually, standing in the doorway of his room and looking at the man in the living room.

-Don't call her that... Felicia is even a year younger than me.—the older one objects, anxiously adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose with fingers slightly damp from cold sweat.

Nicky couldn't say anything else about his father's new love, hating even the idea that that very 'father's love' could become his stepmother in the future. Who is she anyway? Some unknown Felicia Clyde, who appeared out of nowhere. And what about his mother? What about Murphy's wife? Oh... Right, she died. the boy's childish head couldn't understand how his father could forget about his wife so easily.

'so easy'? he spent a decade trying to come to terms with the fact that she was gone. tried to understand that she was now somewhere deep underground, lying with her eyes closed and would not remember them. he lived for a decade with thoughts of how not to commit suicide, but to continue living, taking care of his son. ten years of sleepless nights, nights with nightmares or even hugging a bottle of alcohol. it was not at all 'easy'.

and then, from the hallway straight into the living room, a woman comes out. short, pale and soft, with dark hair and eyes, with pinkish plump lips and delicate hands. hot blood spread in a scarlet wave under the thin skin of her small face. It seemed that she was ashamed that she had come, and at the same time she seemed to feel that she had the right to come.