Learning to ride, falling down, getting back on
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Reid Champagne lives in upstate New York, where there are nine months of winter and three months of bad skiing.
Sam saw Hannah turn and beckon to him. He had stopped to watch her slide across the snow the way, years ago, those figures in the Munich Glockenspiel had seemed to slide out and turn so delicately before disappearing behind the face of the big clock.
Wycke, I knew, had thought of his eyes as prisms, capable of seeing many points of view at once. They sat in deep dark sockets, alert, cautious, and ever vulnerable, like two small animals uneasy in their burrows.