Becoming Ellen [antikvár]

THI Hen Homes was feeling jaunty, which was interesting, because P"n" until recently she'd never found any use for the word jaunty. JLaaJ Sure, she'd read it, but with her particular brand of detached living, which excluded most conversations—or human interaction, if at all possible—she'd never had a chance to try it out. Jaunty, Ellen decided, felt like a sunny day with a thrilling breeze, though right now it was dark, only a couple of hours before dawn. She looked out the window of the bus at the deserted, gray, early-a.m. sidewalks and suppressed a smile. Not that anyone would see the fleeting expression. It wasn't difficult for Ellen to fall naturally into her old state of invisibility, not for someone with as much practice as she had. For more than twenty years, Ellen had developed the knack of being absent. It had begun simply, with seeking shadows and silence, because the alternative was notice, which had never been a good thing for Ellen. Concentrating hard on withdrawing from the physical world, she would will herself to not be a part of it. Her diligence, coupled with the fact that i