though ruby cant turn her head , she can see how the golden lamplight thins and turns grainy at the edge of her vision , and if she could lift her head a little she knows shed see the light fading even more and shading into an absolute blackness in the corners of the living room and the various crannies of the kitchen , in the ironing board closet , and the guest bedroom , whose warm bed on which she once broke two toes now seems very remote , part of an earlier existence .