They sat on the lawn where they used to play as children, when in the shimmering, humid sunlight they saw, coming across the lawns and lawns, a very quick figure. It was, they realized, their child, who had come home with them. They looked out across the lawns and lawns and every house and every lawn and every pair of eyes glaring at them from behind curtains shimmered like gilded toys from a burnt down cathedral. They had made the world into art. Or rather, their child, the horrible child, had transformed their lives.