might break the spell of waiting. In that moment part of me believed,
as I had always believed, that it would be me who broke the spell, who
caused it to break. When the stillness shattered and his fury rushed at
me, I would know that something I had done was the catalyst, the
cause. There is hope in such a superstition; there is the illusion of
control.
I stayed still, without thought or motion.
The ignition clicked, the engine growled to life. Warm air flooded
through the vents.
“You feel like a movie?” Shawn said. His voice was casual. I watched
the world revolve as the car spun around and lurched back to the
highway. “A movie sounds just right,” he said.
I said nothing, unwilling to move or speak lest I offend the strange
sorcery of physics that I still believed had saved me. Shawn seemed
unaware of my silence. He drove the last mile to Buck’s Peak chatting
cheerfully, almost playfully, about whether to watch The Man Who
Knew Too Little, or not.
- I remember this as the scar Luke got from working the Shear; however, it might have come
from a roofing accident.