As the rain pattered down on the roof, George Murray reflected just how miserable the day was. His father lay quietly under the pristine white sheets and sterile white blanket, his shrunken frame testimony to just how far his illness had gone. His white hair showed no trace of the brilliant red hue it had borne throughout his life, and when he opened his sunken eyes to smile at his only son, the vivid azure had been replaced by a watery grey blue. But the snub nose remained the same.


"Stow the...