October 26, 2006 at 9:32 AMBut before I could play it, I had to chase him down across the top of a fast moving passenger train, being careful not to zig when it was zagging. We jumped across several cars, a caboose, and crawled down a ladder. Suddenly, I was in the air, like a pebble down the side of a steep ravine, lightly skipping to the beat of six, then five, then three. Tumbling, we fought over the measure of time. He had a knife.
He used it to carve a slice of cake, which he served on antique china, in an attic full of cobwebs and chests of clothing. The faded dresses were lovely and old-fashioned, but dare I try them on? Self-consciously, I picked a spider out of the frosting and declined. He insisted. Were they swallows or were they bats, circling above? I thought about being sick, churning as though balanced face-down on a twisted swing. It was a deranged fancy, indeed. Why, then, was I compelled to indulge?
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