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Chapter Five

First, the fire tasted the grass, then a bush, jumping to a twig, to old pine needles, then winding up the base of the dying pine, feasting on the dry fuel. The flames danced and played, gleefully jumping from grass to bush, feeding and consuming without end. The light grew brighter the more it fed on the landscape, gray smoke beginning to cloud the stars.

***

“It is a shame to hear about that whole West divorce nonsense,” Mrs. Thatcher told me as she put her groceries up on the conveyer belt. It was a slow enough day that I was grateful to have her in my line. Mrs. Thatcher was the local busybody. She knew the gossip about nearly everyone almost as soon as it happened. She had lived in Conifer for as long as everyone could remember, and had been airing everyone's laundry for just as long.

“I never liked that Barbara,” she confided in me as she put corn flakes up onto the belt. “Always too high and mighty for her own good. I never really understood why Ray married her, especially sinc
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