Jason waited until his parents had fallen into their usual drunken stupor, cigarettes dangling from fingertips, and arranged for the still smouldering ember to drop onto the blankets conveniently strewn about. It would be his final contact with the Mom who had loved her son so much when he was but a child; the Mom who read stories about Jesus, and sang "Jesus loves me . . . " while he played with the cross necklace she always wore. And she'd led him...