A Sudden Flash Of Dream Sequence
She asks a local how to switch the sky back on. They all know the texture of Blue Dye House. She hears the supermarket whispers, sees static recognition flickering across their faces. Clouds that look like thoughts follow her home, their wet breath flooding her clothes, her skin, her mouth. Climbing over the stile into the kitchen she falls into a lake.
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They all saw her. Standing on the boardwalk outside the old woman’s house, smoking.
The old woman was dying of cancer. Not from cigarettes, but still. They did not approve.
In the house, the old woman frantically peeled potatoes, scraps of skin flying everywhere, sticking to the sink, windows and her woollen clothing like a plague of starchy warts.