18
That night, I dream of Beta, again. We are travelling together. She brings rain with her wherever we go. And gives me lessons in bravery.
“Do you like this weather?” she asks me.
“I do,” I reply, sleeking back my wet hair.
There’s a flash; lightning strikes the oak we are sitting under.
“And do you like it now?” asks Beta.
“I do,” I respond, through the ringing in my ears. “I love sitting by a fire.” And it’s true, the oak in front of us is burning down.
Beta smiles her new, brave smile, throws her head back and lets down her long golden hair.
Thunder roars with such might that our little plywood house collapses.
“Don’t you feel sorry for it?” Beta asks.
Green sparks shine in her queer eyes.
“No,” I reply, since there is no other reply.
“Then let’s go for a walk on the storm
