"I brought you some chicken livers," Sniffy says. "For you, or the kids here ... you know ... whatever." Sniffy sets the chicken box on the hospital’s wooden picnic table, which has been stolen from a public park. He sits beside her on the bench, digs out a handful of cold livers, crams them into his mouth. "You need some iron, Cecily. Help that low red-corpuscle count. Enhancer bone-marrow depletion."