Not hungry

July 2, 2010

Smoke rose from the building next door, but it wasn’t the kind of smoke that causes panic. She felt solid as the wind shifted and blew it around her, wrapping her in the smell of char and carbon and meat. She felt not for a second hungry—not for the source of the smoke, not for the source of her own internal fire, and not for anything more than what lay before her: a small quantity of light, time in which to absorb it, and the steady sound of her own heart beating.

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