“I think a mouse just climbed up my leg, Dad. And I have fleas too." “John, there's this whole Death Star and all you care about is a few fleas and a mouse. That's my father. Typical farmer, he worries about everything except a few fleas and mice. My mom? She died of the plague a few weeks ago. I still remember that my mother was once the most beautiful woman in my village. No one recognized her body when she was dragged into the plague pit. My father was particularly devastated. I had to drag him to church, and I did all the housework and I had to grow food otherwise we would starve. And so it went on for months and months, and finally, one day, my father decided to open the door and I took a deep breath of the fresh, no, er, plague-filled air. Guess what? I was right about the air. A few days later, my father said he felt very hot. Over the next few days, black spots and pimples began to appear all over my father's body. I knew he would die soon. As he lay on his deathbed, he told me, “John, once I die, the officials will board up the house. I do not know...