It was a hot day and the wooden house was stuffy. Probably no one had been in it for more than a few minutes since Othniel had been taken to the hospital. Someone must have come for the clothes he'd been buried in. Danielle opened the windows in the front room and sat down in one of the big morris chairs her grandfather had made himself.
Gilmore, John, Nobody's Business (Extracts from a work in progress), Kunapipi, 20(1), 1998.