She felt the need to get dressed, sensing that his parents would be home soon. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. Gianfrancesco had been talked into the arrangement only because the drivers that had handled the job for generations were sick or dead. I didn’t allow myself to see things as they were in those days; now I do.
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