She dreams of winter woods, an icy pond, a remembered house, a pregnant friend. She sees a fox off through the trees. Its body is black, but its head is red. Then it is on the road. It has become a monster, like a child's drawing of a wolf. It menaces them.
When she wakes, she stands before the mirror and runs a finger over one eyebrow. The gray hair that had sprouted weeks ago among the black is gone.
Gerast áskrifandi að:
Birta ummæli (Atom)
Engin ummæli:
Skrifa ummæli