A Fold In The Tent Of The Sky (2015) - Plot & Excerpts
. . the perfect moment The wind was a breeze this morning, a butterfly flutter of a breeze. Peter, Anita, and Gordon were sitting together having breakfast out on the terrace. The table’s disorder was precise, infinitely defined: the scatter of dishes on the white tablecloth; the startling orange of Peter’s juice. Gordon’s hand brushed against his crumpled napkin and it gently opened; the inhaled light carved shadows in a ceaseless calculus of readjustments. Peter was suddenly struck by the perfection of it all, and his awareness of the moment made it even more piquant—the savoring almost as good as the thing savored. He thought about Pam then, wanting to share it with her. As he closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun he could feel the damp warmth of her breathing on his pillow. In that instant Pam murmured something and turned in the sheets like a dolphin, then settled back to float in a new pool of sleep. Simon Hayward was nowhere to be seen this morning—thank God, Peter thought.
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