Else answered at once: “Your complexion.” And it was true: Elsa loved the skin. Because she loved it directly, her love was pure and uncompromised. And everything was good.Then, one morning, everything changed. Elizabeth’s side of the bed was cold; the skin was pale and clammy. And it didn’t move when Elsa shook her. Elsa wrapped her body around Elizabeth’s still, unmoving form, trying to coax the skin back to life. Soft kisses and gentle touches did nothing. The skin on Elizabeth’s face didn’t twitch back into a meaningful expression. Her chest didn’t rise and fall with breath. No warmth came back into any part of her.Elsa examined every inch of skin on the dead body and found that it was all still perfect. It was the body beneath the skin that had failed. Blood, bone, heart; these hidden things were so unaccountable. Anything could have gone wrong with any of them.But maybe the skin could be saved? Mind racing, Elsa imagined a new and better body for it, a perfect body. One she. In that it failed."You with her?" his interceptor demanded, nodding at Meiersdottir.Igwanda sighed. He'd had this sort of encounter before, knew what was coming."She is my wife, and that is our son," he answered, hoping the regularity of the status would discourage his accoster.The man spat down, narrowly missing Igwanda's shoes. "She spread 'em for every nigger?" he demanded with a sneer.Igwanda started to turn away, but the hand on his shoulder tightened. "I asked you a question, boy," the man growled.Deliberately Igwanda stared directly into the man's eyes. "Do not press this further," he said softly.A nasty grin suffused the man's face, revealing two missing front teeth. "You threatenin' me, boy?" he asked. He turned to the giant who had followed him out along with the other man they'd been with. "Hey, Tiny, I believe this here nigger just threatened me, you gone do somethin' about it?" He stepped back as the one he'd called Tiny moved forward with surprising speed and grace.He.
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