Excerpt from “Death of a Sad Face,” a work in progress
His room faced the front and the sea and he went to the window for one last look at the waves and he wondered what was on the other side, maybe the souls of the dead, like his mother and father and now Falco who wasn’t dead, not as far as he knew, but who’d left without saying goodbye which was as good as dead. He stood at the window and waited until the moon was high and the stars pricked the sky before he wrapped himself in Vicenzu’s old cape and stuffed a book into his sack. After kissing his brother once more, he nodded to the wet nurse and crept down the stairs and along the hall, opening the door as soft as he could and slipped out into the night.
Photo: Stone angels in Noto. iStockphoto.
