But before he was close enough to hear it, he could imagine the sound of the heater fan’s steady whine, the thick red heat that came out through the grill into the room almost like the elements inside were throwing hot liquid into the air. Vincent had been outside in the falling snow, and there was still melting snow left on one of his boots by the front door. One boot was standing up, the other toppled over on its side. It was coming down heavy this time, sound-catching, noise-bending snow, the kind of snow that made the low foghorn positioned on the outer edge of the harbour seem to move all around him, calling first from one direction, then from another. He and Murray and Twig had gotten into a snowball fight, and then had chased a cat and pelted heavy wet snowballs at it, missing every time but driving the cat into a streaking frenzy to escape. Vincent had seen Mr. Coughlin’s truck across the street, the only vehicle on that side of the road that wasn’t buried in a thick blanket of snow, the hood of the truck still clean and steaming as the bunched flakes landed on it.
What do You think about The Glass Harmonica (2010)?
