Marlowe felt his life crumbling around him. He had recently been called before the Privy Counsel, a combination grand jury, federal prosecutor and Supreme Court. His friend and roommate, the playwright Thomas Kyd, had been arrested for treason . . .
Soaking rain had stopped, typical of an August afternoon. It hadn’t cooled things off, only made the air more steamy and humid . . .
“J’Ouvert morning is when the angels and demons dance,” PaPa had said. His words were on a loop in Viv’s head as she made her way through the crowds on Back Street in Kingstown. Daylight had caught the night, melting dark tendrils until they turned grey . . .
Cold permeated. I’d been shaking uncontrollably, teeth rattling, for the better part of an hour; every time I’d try to make myself stop, the shaking would multiply by an exponent and my mind would wander off somewhere else . . .
Daryl pressed my back against the cold iron railing on the crumbling steps beside the Shelton Auto Body. His kiss was even colder, but only because he was in a rush . . .
When the sun sets, the dogs come out in Tikiwin. You can’t hear them, not at first . . .
After the ceremony she wanted to go back to the room for a moment before the reception, which was going to be held in the master ballroom. She needed to freshen up, she said. Just go ahead with out me. But he had his suspicions so he trailed along after her, against all of her protests . . .
She should have known something was wrong when the beach resembled a desert . . .