Orpheus - Haunting the Dead.pdf - Dice

THE GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER
slick pavement. Though she didn’t see it, she knew the
silver SUV was outside again, riding down the same
street, in the same direction. She did not look, she
would not look, but still she knew it was there—
making the same twin lines on the rainy street, braking
exactly the same way at the same changing light, then
turning wide into the far lane, exactly as it had before,
with all the same sights, sounds and reflections.
The only thing she didn’t know for certain was
whether or not there was a third handprint on the
window. But there was no way she could move her
head, or her feet, or even bend down to adjust her
damned oversized white socks. She was, for the moment
at least, petrified.
This is ridiculous! I’m suicidal anyway! What the fuck
is there for me to be afraid of?
So she managed to turn toward the window.
A numbing cold warbled through Shutty as if it
were a piece of ice forced by pressure through a toosmall
rubber hose. She hoped the sudden chill would
kill her, so she wouldn’t have to see a single damn thing
more, but no such luck.
And yes, the third handprint was there—a pretty,
nigh invisible, white relief on gray glass, made of dust
and moisture—full of the distinctive skin-lines that
adorned all palms and fingers. Some were like little
rivers and tributaries, others like cracked dry earth, still
others straight bands, slashing across the joints.
( 39 )
HAUNTING THE DEAD
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