Martin sat on the sofa, dust dancing in the air made his nose itch, a sneeze about to erupt was thwarted by something hard poking his bottom.,Martin took out the bread and munched on the fried chicken, recalling his injury and previous job as he spoke. “The house repairman owes me two weeks’ pay, and then there was this injury,” he said, trying to think of ways to make more money.,Martin was just about to ask a question, then he remembered that this house belonged to James Carter. "Your uncle died eight years ago," he said, "from eating the wrong flour."。