Chapter 42



Will sat on the edge of his bed.  He knew he would not be sleeping.  He started to take a cigarette out of the pack he had put on the nightstand and stopped.  A promise had been made to Abby that he would not smoke in the house.  He had never smoked in the house when Emily was alive.  He tried to remember if he smoked that often back then.  Cigarettes used to be a nickel.  He was not sure if he even smoked then.  His mind was wandering on nonsense.

Will pulled his trousers on and walked to the back door where he slipped on his boots and jacket.  He let the door slam as he exited the house then urgently pushed through the studio door.  He flipped on the lights and heat as he marched into the room.  He tossed his jacket on the bench by the window then went to get two fists of clay.  He carried the clay to a wheel, plopped the blob down, and then got two fists more.  His jaw firm, his blue eyes bright, his white hair disheveled, he looked vibrant, possessed, ten, fifteen years junior.  He brought some water to the wheel then began the spin by powering the pedal.  Clay slid through his hands.  The clay enveloped them, competed with them.  The clay resisted changing form, fought to keep shape.  Will’s hands were steady and his eyes fixed.  He had thrown the clay on the wheel in such a way that now he was breaking a stallion.  The sides that wanted to break free he kept to the middle.  Not by shifting his hands back and forth to adjust and shift, no, Will’s hands were steady and his eyes fixed.  Will’s cool blue eyes were peeking deep inside of the clay, soothing the clay, and the clay soothed, the clay mellowed, until a perfect half sphere spun on the wheel.

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