He got a piece of paper and pen to try and piece what he ignored over the years. He searched his memories, wiped the tears off his cheeks, and began to write. Maleva always warned him to never take the amulet off his neck, for protection she says. But from what? She never really answered him and tends to dance around the subject. The salt spread around the house, the fearful prayers, numerous beads and rosaries hanged from every corner. She always was fearful when the sun sets, and even when they were younger she'd make sure that they would be inside the house before dusk. She would waste money on sacks of salt and spread it in thick lines around the house, the locks and all those locks for only two doors. The gates too had numerous locks and before going to bed, despite his age, Maleva would gather them to pray. And since his father forsook them, they never knew any family member that they could go to for visit. There were only the three of them. Sigmund never remembered his encounter with the stranger he came across on the road that night. Nor did he remember anything that came after that, how he got home, or what it did to him that he still made his way in one piece. All he remembered was he was walk ing from the construction site and arriving at the pharmacy to make some purchase, nothing in between. He rose from his seat and reached for the day's newspaper lying above the coffee table.
