He could feel sweat in his eyes and it made his hair stick to him. The wood was coarse and rough, carelessly hewn out. This was a place that smelled faintly of car exhaust, gasoline, fatty foods, smelled less faintly of grass and Faerie things, and smelled strongly of blood. Right now, on the cusp of freefall, he lay with his cheek on the picnic table in a park, his arms draped out across the surface, back arching uncomfortably to hold the position. He’d reached the end of a road and all that surrounded him was freefall. He didn’t remember what came before it, except what Shellie had made him hold onto. To the worst things.ĭaniel had started in one place. ![]() They were scars that, if they were to be described with directions, and those directions were to get names, were a black direction, a death direction. Clementine had pretty Eastern features, a fine Western way of holding herself and picking out her clothes, and scars here and there that didn’t hold to the notions of east or west or north or south. Clementine continued her conversation with the Deer. ![]() ![]() Daniel studied the anatomy of a cloud against the night sky, backlit by the moon, and let it tell its inconsistent passage of time.Įasily an hour’s time passed in the time it took him to exhale once, slowly, watching the cloud. Normal people counted time by steady increments, like the serpent’s sway of the metronome.
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