[b]November:[/b]

Singh sits up in the net. The santa-voice is gone. Instead he adopts a voice that is not naturally his own, but learned. The voice his wife gifted him is no less kind, but the almost manic excitement, the boyish arrogance, drops out the bottom of it. He speaks slowly, patiently, ready to listen but demanding to be listened to. Nurses, doctors, teachers, therapists and cops all have their own variation of it. 

“Snake,” his shaking hands hold the net underneath him with white knuckles but his voice is steady, “If you had to guess, could you identify the moment that Yellow became malignant? How long ago?"