618. I kill myself_1
Lily stayed in her room, clenching her handkerchief, nervous and anxious. The nails on her thumbs were somewhat uneven, a sign left from gnawing at them when she felt tense—an habit she never had before, and she didn't know when she had developed it.
She was very afraid now.
Lily was originally just a maid in the house, a simple job for a girl not yet twenty, consisting of cleaning and taking care of Mr. Bronning.
Surprisingly, contrary to the theory of the head maid who instructed her, that all old people were difficult to deal with, the nearly sixty-year-old man was spry and vigorous, appearing more like a middle-aged person. Lily often mistook his age, thinking she wasn't taking care of an old man but an uncle who was only a little more than a decade older than herself.