Johnson ignored her husband's screams. He tore the fertility books he'd bought off the shelf and began leafing through them vigorously, perhaps searching in vain for other options. The storybook he had bought so long ago began to slip, toppling off the shelf and landing on the floor, opening up to the story with the widowed woman and her lizard child. “What did that widow do again?” He wondered aloud. “Okay, it's simple. The widow took soot from her hearth, wrote on a random piece of paper that she wanted a son, and buried the soot with the note near a lake. Well, it seems simple enough. I've tried everything else...” Mrs. Johnson went into the basement, where they had a wood stove, which they had purchased with the intention of saving on heating in the winter, but this time perhaps they were doing more. He opened the black metal door, collected some charred remains from the last fire burned inside the unit, and placed them in a glass jar. He grabbed a pen and paper closer and scribbled the words, “Please give me a son.” I would do anything", and also put that folded note in the jar. Mr Johnson shouted: “where are you going? Why don't you answer?