On the plane, he looks over and, smiling, says to me, says Silas, I’m trying to figure life out now, how it’s gonna be without. Can’t tell how I’ll find a girl now. I didn’t understand then, not ‘til I looked down at his pants again and saw the blood stain spreading out more in his lap and down his legs. He tried to cover it up with a shirt he had with him. And I looked back at him and saw him cry and he leaned over and hugged me and cried and cried into my shoulder and I knew then. When we got back, we both got to working in the mines, just like our father. We would go out at night to Roy’s and get a beer or two. That’s where he met Jean.dust regions
Sounds take on a different texture. They seem richer and more varied. The wail of a police siren was deafening when it cut across a conversation; now it interrupts my thoughts pleasantly, as a logical punctuation to my train of thought. I listen to the siren pass, then carefully step back into my thoughts. The bark of a dog, the rustle of the trees, the squick of my wet trainers on the pavement: all these things are the soundtrack to the world, which human conversation does nothing but drown out. Words do not add anything useful.on losing my voice for a fortnight
He stayed off work for the rest of the week. By Friday, his wife could no longer disguise her alarm.
He could keep nothing down, and had trouble getting anything in. Spoonfuls of soup were sour in his mouth, and he had to spit them back into the bowl. He choked on more generous fare. He kept secret from his wife the strange protrusion he could feel in the centre of his gut, an oval of hard, obdurate matter, like a thickened column of muscle. Taking it in both hands, he could move the growth, or the swelling, whatever it was, first from one side then to the other before it met any internal resistance.regression