There's a memory that comes back to me, sharp and clear, as I burn.

It's a hot day, and the faces are blurry, the words and laughter indistinct. Shadows stop just short of the river's surface, where the current catches fire from the sun's touch. Spots and flickers and short shimmering stretches of light race frantically along the water, the only ( Read more... )

I don't like this place. My hands are busy, but I still have time to think. I lean forward, using my weight to force the shovel into damp, rocky earth. Another day, another hut. It's just past dawn, and already I'm hard at work. I like that part. It's just not as mind-numbing as I had hoped ( Read more... )