The Blasphemer: a Novel
“Last Wednesday of April, 1918THREE DAYS PASS BEFORE ANDREW AND MADAME CAMIER TOUCH again. It is evening. They are sitting with their chairs facing the fire, though he keeps shifting position so that he can cast a sideways glance at her, without her noticing. She is too present. The atmosphere around her too charged. It is as if her molecules extend towards him, spilling out, disturbing the air. The ticking of the longcase clock is excessively loud tonight. Each pulse fills the room, as if thickening the particles of dust. ‘It is slow,’ Madame Camier says, rising to her feet in one liquid movement. She adjusts the time by a fraction, and, as she closes the glass face, Andrew’s hand covers hers. They are standing so close to one another he can smell her hair. His heart is hammering with such force it is rocking his whole body. She must be able to feel it. He wants to put his arm around her waist but its heaviness prevents him. She is breathing through her nose again – rapid, shallow breaths.
Write Review:
User Reviews: