Downloadable PDF: Chapter 4
My mind is desperate to be given no roof or walls but the sky, and my heart beats hard against the lack of control, the uncertainty, the unknown.
“I’m sorry.” As I apologise, my eyes long to make out, clear, what lies beyond the whiteness.
On her unseen perch she has her legs crossed, each elbow upon each knee, and each fist meets her at her jawline, her hair looking like the light I’m missing. Her eyes are deep blue one moment, yet a blue so light at others, but now they are settled, stable, at some point softly in-between.
“What are you? And you can be obvious if you want.”
Her eyes do all the smiling, betraying, clear, an unmoved face.
“You’re a… spirit. Or a stroke…”
“Or a girl.”
“Or a Cheshire Cat.”
The left half of her mouth lifts, smiling broadly; the right reaches out, but subtle.
william altoft 