![]() But these days I do not sleep as well as I did when I was young. The nightstand clock painted glowing numbers on the gloom-įor a moment I considered remaining in bed. Holding my breath, I lay listening to the silence, and felt the silence listening to me. If a peal had awakened me, it must have been thunder in a dream. I hoped to hear the fading rumble of thunder. This mild February night was not, however, sweetened by the scent of rain. Precipitation falls on the town of Pico Mundo only during our brief winter. The desert air smelled faintly of roses, which were not in bloom, and of dust, which in the Mojave nourishes twelve months of the year. WAKING, I HEARD A WARM WIND STRUMMING THE LOOSE screen at the open window, and I thought Stormy, but it was not. ![]()
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