“After the darkening wind and a few inconclusive drops it seemed to pause, leaving the evening sky clear; it lay still visible on the horizon, though, muttering lowly from time to time, probably raining (those at Spofford's party said to one another) on someone else's party, somewhere else. The dense hot air was charged with its nearness, and when the moon arose, to toasts and laughter, immense and as amber as whiskey, her light gilded the scalloped hem of its clouds.Pierce and Spofford drove do...wn to the party from the cabin in Spofford's aged truck. Pierce's feet were amid the toolboxes and oily rags, and Spofford drove with one arm across the steering wheel, the other propped on the window sill, holding on the roof. Gravel roads, the old truck's smell, night air on his face, had Pierce thinking of Kentucky, of long-ago summer Saturday nights, out sparkin', of freedom and expectation: as though this road were an extension of one he had once been on, one that he had left years ago and had suddenly rejoined at this juncture, who would have thought it led here, who would have thought.They turned onto an unkempt paved road, jouncing mightily, and in not too long a time drew up at a shuttered roadside stand.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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