295

After rolling over and flipping her pillow for the fourth time, Sara gave it up as a bad job and got out of bed.  She had the feeling that important life was happening without her.  Spending wakeful hours in bed only made her retread the same worn paths to frustration, so she wrapped herself in her comforter and went to her window.

It was unlikely that there would be any activity out on her street.  Sara lived in a quiet suburb, and the sidewalks were rolled up by 9:00 pm, but she couldn't shake that feeling that there was some spark of life just outside her sphere.  Her dresser sat under the window, and if she pushed it back slightly, she could sit, her feet on the baseboard heat, and lean her elbows on the windowsill to look outside.  Despite the cold November night air, she cranked open one casement window and arranged her comforter over her head.  The baseboard heat rose and filled her cocoon while the night chilled her nose and cheeks.

The street was predictably dark and no lights on in the three houses she could see; it was, after all, after two in the morning.  Sara sat and dreamed with her eyes open of adventure.

287

The house was dark and smelled of mold, but the board over the side door had been loose, so it would do for a night.  Had to be extra careful entering a house at night; not because there might be someone in it, but rather because the floor might be rotted out.  There wasn't anybody in a house on this whole, toothless block.

The floor was solid in what had been the kitchen and still solid into the dining room, living room, and, what, front parlor?  The house was actually rather large and might do with some exploring in the day.  The downstairs would always remain dark, though, because of the boards.  The floor was soft, not because of rot, but rather because of carpeting.  Probably was holding in a lot of the mold smell, too.

235

The moon rose over the canyon wall, big and white and clear.  The rocks were still warm, but the air had been gathering a chill.  It was still, cloudless, the stars stretching out to forever and the start of the universe.  Cabe lay dying in his sleeping bag.  He had maneuvered himself so the fire was behind him and his head propped up on one of the low, warm rocks.  The additional heat from the fire warmed the top of his wispy-haired head.  Cabe shivered and stared at the moon, trying to gain perspective on his place in the world before he was gone from it.

162

In the warm blackness of the evening, the street was oddly quiet.  Distantly, a car hummed, but the nearest few blocks were empty of vehicles, people, animals, and even wind.  It was still and motionless, like an abandoned movie set.

34

The night was stifling hot and the air was so humid it had weight. No breeze stirred though all the bedroom windows were optimistically thrown open. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but did not bring cooling rain. Air conditioners had been rendered useless hours ago when the power grid slammed shut and would not re-open. The power outage also meant the night was black, black, black. No night light, no digital clock glow, no street lights and no neighbor's annoying motion floods. Blackness and silence.