The wooden step to the front door was caved in, and she took me to a rigid sofa next to a window. She was a young high-schooler that the tutoring service had assigned to me, in the heart of Amityville. It was our first session, but I knew the window light was not enough. I stood up to turn on the lamp on the end table, and saw the bulb was missing. When I asked her what novels she had read lately, I got blank silence.
For our next session I brought a 150watt bulb, and two paperback novels of the popular kind (I didn’t want to start with Wuthering Heights). One was called The Lonely Heart.
As we ended our last session, I wondered if she read in any of the novels. As I stood up to go, I noticed behind the base of the lamp, the bulb was shining on The Lonely Heart, with a bookmark in the middle.