TE23 Double Feature

The Forests

Sandrine Collette

strangely instinctive gesture, she’d hurried to close the door to the cellar behind her. And it was there through the cracked-open door that she saw the beginning of the thing. Not saw: glimpsed. Not even: suddenly she lost consciousness.

And she looked down and wiped her tears.

We mustn’t speak about it.

Corentin nodded. He wouldn’t ask again. He took her hand, too, but she pulled it away.

She didn’t know when she had to come to.

* * *

She didn’t know when she went outside. She didn’t want to speak about the destructive force that had come.

He slept in the attic with Blind Boy, climbing up the outside stairway that led to the old wooden door, loose on its hinges. Mathilde had a bed downstairs next to Augustine’s. All night long, she added more wood to the fire. Old people die from the cold, she said. He could hear the dull sound of the logs dropping into the hearth—he had brought his mattress closer to the chimney shaft to make the most of the bit of warmth. He felt disheartened. His return was nothing like what he’d hoped. There was no joy. Nor was there any great sorrow—neither happiness nor 77

Corentin acquiesced in silence. He squeezed her hand tighter.

Augustine was there. Their hearts were beating together—too fast.

He looked at Mathilde.

What about you.

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