She moves quietly, attending to her clothes, her breathing slowed, her actions deliberate and composed, and Karel watches uneasily and wonders what is expected of him. He notes the splotched bloom of flushed skin above her breasts, but then she pulls the camisole over her head and slips into the sleeves of her blouse, her eyes downcast. When she reaches for her boots, Karel is almost surprised to find himself naked, still seated on the blanketed hay. Outside, the light rain announces yet its muted arrival on the rooftop, the horses still clop the hard dirt of their stalls in their animated sleep, and while, excepting the animals and the night and whatever god is attendant upon these shadows, Karel is still alone with this girl, he can't help but think, as he rises from the hay and pulls on his trousers, that this is not the same stable, not the same town, not the same world in which he'd found himselfjust a dozen short minutes before. When they are both dressed, Graciela unhasps the nearest stall door and walks Whiskey out beneath the lamp and crossties him there, running her little hands flat against his rippling shoulders, smoothing the roan hide as the horse nudges sleepily at her with his great head and nibbles gently at her hair with his lips.
