Thirteen Phantasms
“All the sounds were clear—the shrill steam whistle over the bass chug of the engine, and even, faintly, the clatter of the wheels on the track.
It never rained anymore on Christmas Eve. The plastic rain gauge was probably still out on the shed roof; he used to lean over the balcony railing outside the master bedroom to check the level of the water in the thing. There had been something reassuring about the idea of rainwater rising in the gauge—nature measurably doing its work, the seasons going around, the drought held at bay. … But he couldn’t recall any rain since last winter. He hadn’t checked, because the master bedroom was closed up now. And anyway the widow next door, Mrs. Kemp, had hung some strings of Christmas lights over her back porch, and even if he did get through to the balcony, he wouldn’t be able to help seeing the blinking colors, and probably even something like a Christmas wreath on her back door.
Too many cooks spoil the broth, he thought, a good wine needs no bush..., a friend in need is one friend too many, leave me alone.MoreLess
It never rained anymore on Christmas Eve. The plastic rain gauge was probably still out on the shed roof; he used to lean over the balcony railing outside the master bedroom to check the level of the water in the thing. There had been something reassuring about the idea of rainwater rising in the gauge—nature measurably doing its work, the seasons going around, the drought held at bay. … But he couldn’t recall any rain since last winter. He hadn’t checked, because the master bedroom was closed up now. And anyway the widow next door, Mrs. Kemp, had hung some strings of Christmas lights over her back porch, and even if he did get through to the balcony, he wouldn’t be able to help seeing the blinking colors, and probably even something like a Christmas wreath on her back door.
Too many cooks spoil the broth, he thought, a good wine needs no bush..., a friend in need is one friend too many, leave me alone.MoreLess
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