The Cookie Baroness dies
The elegant hall was filled with cheap, wooden chairs - one of those that give you uncomfortable tingling in the spine just by looking at them. I tried to count the seats and got lost at 43. All of them were already taken with more onlookers crowding in the aisle, leaning against the walls or crouching in the very first row. With the windows tightly shut, the air indoors was heavy, almost damp from breaths getting out of dozens of chests. I looked at the faces of those who had arrived: some of them I knew, some looked familiar - the almond-shaped eyes, long, thin fingers with oval nails or narrow lips - those are features characteristic to our family.