And once he'd selected a piece of air to gaze if he might upon, Donnie Huff gazed in fact for a moment upon it before telling one time to himself, "Oh," and telling "Oh," one time to Delmon his child as well in advance of and as preamble to gaining straightaway his feet and hauling his cartilages and transporting his airways out altogether from the front room where Delmon remained by the chairarm sculpting and shaping his confection and ingesting every now and again a portion of it while he watched on the tv somebody somewhere lying in the road under a sheet, a fellow sprawled face down beside a streak of pavement that he'd stained to the gutter where his fluids had drained and run off, and Delmon touched his tongue to his confection and dripped a drop of filling onto his shirtfront as he heard, above the sirens on the tv, above the vigorous lamentations of the kind, above the sober, measured baritone of the national correspondent, a lone girlish shriek of delight.