Still Life by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Still Life
Page 13
The car falls quiet again, save for the hum of the tires and the occasional chirp of a blue jay overhead.
Finn watches her, wondering; not for the first time, if this trip is about the castle at all.
Having successfully forgotten the rude indignities required at check-in, in their first-class cabin on their plane it is quiet, cocooned in soft lighting and the hush of altitude. Finn sips champagne, watching clouds drift past like slow moving thoughts. Susie reads a book with a cracked spine and a title in Dutch.
They don’t speak much. They don’t need to.
The prophecy lingers, tucked somewhere between the overhead bin and the folds of Finn’s coat. The Cosmic Owl is silent, but present.
And somewhere, far below, the Archivists blink.