Evelith had gone back into her room, grabbed a book, propped up some pillows, poured herself of glass of wine and started to read her fave book.  The Complete Works Of William Shakespeare.  Something about the man and how he wrote about tragedies was so perfect.  She loved the misery of humans and he protrayed it so well in his sreenplays and sonnets.  She was in the middle of Hamlet before she had to open up for the night.  No worries.  She was content to read it where she left off.