House of Sighs
The air turned reedy, thin.
Through the great turning, he caught glimpses of that night in Lismore. There were feathers flying there, too. Gulls feeding on a dropped pie, ratty eyes twitching. A cab slamming up over the curb. The lanky man falling to the ground. Smashing glass. A man blocking out the moon as he stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed.
Terrible lightning spears of pain.
Where do you hurt?
Danny shoved his earbuds back in and fumbled with his phone, turning the volume up as loud as it would go, humming along. He didn’t know the words. No matter. All he needed was the beat and for his surroundings to trip into musical alignment.
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