She was getting used to calling herself Phoe (rhymes with “tree”) and not Kalar, and had an even harder time pretending that she was a migrant. The others on top of the train looked at her pale skin with surprise, and though she had dyed her hair black, she still couldn’t pass as a Bolivian emigr...
He doesn’t yet know of the flare, but even if he had been dreaming of it, the light of dreams is never that bright. Even the faint glow of a real bedside lamp sheds more illumination than anything seen while one is sleeping, even a burning sun. As his dream takes shape he ...
