After a little money was unwillingly spent, she had finally bought some local beef balls, half a cold chicken and some vegetables. By the time they arrived home, it was already a quarter past seven. Around her, the night curtain wrapped in the intolerable quiet. She moved absentmindedly with her decrepit misery.
Her misery began with her ideal conception of home: the father, the mother and the children are bound to each other, for happiness and unhappiness, as blood is thicker than water. And really, as far as she was concerned, the current home never met this conception.