eryplaceartofmedisappears."

    "Now...myfather,therewasastrappingfellowwithabigblackmoustachecurledupattheends,ormaybeitwasmygrandfather,etothinkofit.Wasalongtimeago,andImnotreallysurewhereitwasorwhen."

    Thedarknesswasplete.

    "Thatsthewayoflife.Allthingsgooutandgivewaytooher.Tisntwisetobetooattachedtoanyworldoritspeople."

    MystifiedbySmaolachsphilosophy,Itotteredofftomyurnedoverthefacts,andlookedatwhatcrawledbeh.Itriedtopicturemymotherandfather,andcouldnotrecalltheirfacesortheirvoices.Rememberedlifeseemedasfalsetomeasmyheseshadowsarevisible:thesleepingman,thebeautifulwoman,andtheg,laughingchild.Butjustasmuchofreallife,notmerelyreadaboutinbooks,remainsunknowntome.Amothersalullabytoasleepychild.Amanshufflesadeckofcardsanddealsahandofsolitaire.Apairofloversunbuttoherandtumbleintobed.Unrealasadream.

    IdidnotfesstoSmaolachthereasitation.Speckhadallbutabandonedourfriendship,withdrawingintosomehardandlonesomecore.Evenafterwemadethemove,shedevotedherselftomakingournefeellikehome,andshespentthesunlithoursteagChavisorytowalkagain.Exhaustedbyherefforts,Speckfellintoadeepsleepearlyeaight.ShestayedinherburrowoncoldaMarchdays,tragoutanintricatedesignonarolledpart,andwhenIaskedheraboutherdrawing,shestayedquietandaloof.Earlyms,Idseeheratthewesternedgeofcamp,cladinherwarmestcoat,sturdyshoesonherfeet,pthehorizon.Irememberapproagherfrombehindandplagmyhandonhershoulder.Forthefirsttimeever,sheflimytoudwheurofaceme,shetrembledasifshakingofftheur