She was staring not at the fire but a little bit up and to the right like she was good at. That should have been me, she dwelled.
Nearby, Baker Bloch had gotten pretty good on the piano, graduating from “Chop Sticks” to chromagraphic lines of modality. Next up: half lines; doubly long. He can hardly wait. Full blown computer music could be next.
The swallowtail flag points to it: Rainbow Sphere.
“Baker?” she called over as he hit Middle C once again, as he’d done over and over tonight. It stayed lit up from use as his fingers retreated.
“Yes?”
Sunklands 