A fire burns in the hearth. Two cups of cocoa steam on the table. The light in the room is low.

Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop

Melted snow fell to the stone floor from the coats hanging on the wall. Ishamael sat on the cushioned couch with his legs folded beside him in a loose black silk pants and snug-fitting white shirt with all the outer garments removed and hanging up. His feet twitched in time with unheard music.

He was peering into the fire.