The Dead Father talking to Emma. Pink hazes of the early morning. Vegetation failures visible, blasted sumac, iris, phlox. Dim low hills beyond. The Dead Father in his golden robes. Emma in her green fatigue pants, green fatigue shirt.

Looking very beautiful this morning, the Dead Father said.

Oh am I, said Emma.

You are a very handsome woman, the Dead Father said.

No no, said Emma, just ordinary. Just an ordinary woman. Another among thousands.

Not at all, not at all. Now I have seen in my time many a one.

Yes, Emma said, I believe it.

Some stunning beauties. Some extraordinary ladies. I can distinguish I think between what is ordinary and what is not. You are sui generis one might say.

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