La CenaMr. Shen and Mr. Shen have taken to wearing scarves. They wear them tied neatly over the shoulder, over their house jackets. One of them wears one of blue, the other one of green.
They have each been acting strangely, in their own ways. One has taken more liking to the lower floors of the house, and has been spending time on the periphery of occupied rooms. The other is usually above, marking passage with a careful creaking of the floorboards. We are still unsure if they are trading colors.
The other evening, Blue Shen joined us for dinner, sitting carefully at the far end of the table. He ate slowly, chewing each bite and sometimes looking out the window into the evening countryside, hidden by our reflections in the glazing. He said nothing, and we moved the conversation around the table, Jacobo, Marco, Juliet and I, trading ghost stories and laughing.
We were completely unprepared when Shen giggled and reached across the table to poke Jacobo in the arm with a fork.
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