The rain wonâ€™t come yet, not for a while, but Michael can smell it and can see it, miles away, a ragged shadow suspended from a blue thunderhead mounding so high it looks as though it reaches heaven. He thinks of a picture he once saw of a man opening a little door in the sky and sticking his head through. Michael canâ€™t remember what was on the other side of that door.
Apr 18 2006
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