to drink her crappy coffee from her dirty chipped mug. "Nonsense! I can't have you leaving here without having some coffee to warm you up first," she said, handing him the boxes she was carrying before walking down the narrow passage to her bedroom. He turned left into the kitchen and dropped some of the boxes on the kitchen counter and some on the floor. An empty bottle of brandy lay comfortably on the top of her rubbish. His upper lip twitched as he scowled at the bottle and wondered how many more empty bottles were in the rubbish bin. While he waited for her, he surveyed his gloved hands and tried not to look at the empty bottle. She had given him the gloves for his birthday. They were one of the very few things she had ever given him. They were cheap black imitation leather and were starting to crack. He didn't know why he kept them, probably because they were a gift from her. The reason for hating them was also his reason for wanting to keep them. He remembered one of the first presents he'd bought her with his own money as a child. It had been a pink fairy statuette for her bedroom. She'd thrown it away. He could still see the porcelain shards lying at the bottom of the trash can. The woman returned to the kitchen while he was staring at the gloves. He hadn't noticed her come in. He snapped his head