![]() ![]() What can blow out a candle? Knock it over, spatter its burning wax - is that what’s running down her jaw? Fireworks? But what is there to celebrate on the fourteenth of September? Outside, the dogs of San Miguel Station bark in furious chorus. A sulfurous tang on the air - she’s never known a thunderstorm to smell like that. ![]() “Wait,” Blanche tells Jenny, lurching to her feet with her right boot still on. The candle’s out, and it’s so dark here in the hinterlands. “Qu’est-ce - ” Is that the start of a question from Jenny, or just a gasp? ![]() Oh, she shouldn’t have been singing, she thinks with a superstitious shiver she’s brought on a storm. The hot sky must have finally exploded, forking its blades into the eaves of the Eight Mile House. The cracks come so hard Blanche takes them for thunder. ![]()
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