5/9/2023 0 Comments Moon Dance by S.P. Somtow![]() ![]() The car clunked and wheezed as I stopped. I decided to pull off the road and look at a map. Many of the road signs were smothered in snow. Well, I had to be somewhere near my destination. I realized that I wouldn't have much daylight left this far north, in the dead of winter. I could almost heft it in my hands and read the gold-leaf lettering on the spine: As I glided along the empty road between endless snowbanks, looking out over snow and snow and more snow, the book I dreamed of became clearer and clearer to me. I laughed and pondered the book I was going to write. I imagined the Carltons next door shunning me and retreating into their split-level ranch-style mansion, muttering darkly about how girls shouldn't go to college, look how weird they get when they come home. ![]() I was going to write the ultimate exposé I saw the book-a fat hardcover, of course-gleaming on the racks of the neighborhood bookstore. ![]() I wanted the frisson of coming face-to-face with a mass murderer whom the world had long forgotten. This is not the book I dreamed of as I crossed the snow in my battered Impala. ![]()
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