Publication Year



creative writing, fiction, literature, English


Creative Writing | Fiction


"I guess it runs in the family. Restlessness. Or curiosity; or whatever it is," Jeros said.

The two of them were talking as they walked together over the crest of a low hill lined with eucalyptus trees. The wind was coming up now; they could hear it rushing through the branches. Over the tops of the trees, the heavy purple clouds were running up from the hills behind Suasalito, darkening the sky. There was the feeling of rain in the air around them as they walked. Jeros was watching the sharp lines of Hilary's profile for a sign of her feeling, as the long brown hair whipped back and forth around her head like a scarf.

They were coming down to the fuchsia garden. Covered by the graceful arcs of elms, and more of the eucalyptus. Everything in the park was a bright new green. The branches overhead were trying to hide the maroon and red flowers from the rest of the world. Jeros and Hilary walked slowly past the sagging boughs of bell-shaped blossoms, stepping on the brittle bodies of last year's new leaves; and underneath the canopy of high-topped trees. They were listening to the quiet of the green cathedral.