Her name is Darlene Farrows. She's plain, average, and simple. There's absolutely nothing remarkable at all. Or at least, that's what we thought.
The woman said her name was Darlene.
She said she was heavy but without fat, light-haired without blond, intelligent but without genius.
She said she had been married, before, and that she had had a child. She did not have a child now.
She drove an old car to a new house, and drank warm tea from a cold glass.
She read a chapter, watched a show, swept the floor and pet the dog.
And then she went to bed.
She never woke up.