Thousand: Four Hundred Three

He shivered. And a warmth spread through him. He opened his eyes. Had he closed them? Looking down into those now open eyes others, gray as rain clouds, gray in white, blinked gold eyelashes. Above him lips broke into a smile, which lit the face like a night’s first lamp. The lips drew nearer and the boy felt the air move. A breath could send a seed away. In his chest he felt the press of distant rain. The weeds would have to grow. The gutters would have to run and leaves would have to hurry to the grates and