Thanking Mama G, I stepped out into the drizzle and made sure she shut the door behind me. Traffic hissed past as I descended the steps and pretended to head for the sidewalk. I stole a glance behind me and saw Mama G in the window. I kept thinking she’d let the curtain fall, but she didn’t budge. She just stood there with the jar cradled in the crook of her arm, staring at me. There was no way I could sneak around back and remove the body of the snake from the trash can. I turned and headed to where my car was parked—and forgot all about the snake, until much, much later.