He throws her a look for the remark about his hair, but doesn't bother to correct her. You really can't wash hair that long as frequently as the average person.

A society of one? It may well have been, for as little as he was permitted to participate. And the people who've tried to know him since... Well, not everyone will put up with 'spiky.'

"No," he says, "not better than I'd like. And there's no reason for you to pry into it. I didn't, did I?"

He strikes the last pane of glass. He doesn't know about the superstition, but is it cumulative? 21 years of bad luck?