1The end of the refectory table was shrouded in light. Willow sat at the end of the table, her hair flooded in front of her face. She distanced herself from her family as much as she could. She hated spending time with them. They didn't laugh or cry; they didn't live. For all Willow knew, her aunt could be a robot. Maybe that's why she only saw her once a month. She was getting oiled and re-wired between their meetups.