Someone was
screaming and it wasn�t until my throat hurt that I
realised it was me. All I could do was watch that yacht burn, way out in the ocean. I saw the explosion, saw the smoke, magnified through the binoculars; a flash of white, tinged in orange, then a fireball reaching to the bright, cloudless blue sky. Sonny�s pyre. I blinked like the smoke was getting in my eyes � not from this distance. Not smoke then, tears; grief hitting me like a hammer to the chest so I could barely breathe. There was nothing I could do but watch. |