The immaculate - 9

The greyhound ran round the house, in a rage. Then a car suddenly turned on its headlights and sped off, in a flash. Who was that? The dog went on yelping and running round in the yard, into the bushes, by the swimming pool. I thought about going down but honestly, I was scared. The shutters remained ajar and the curtains had returned to the stillness of life’s anchors: rigidly slow and quiet under the spell of the night breeze, like open sails on mellow sea. There was an apparent calm, tarnished solely by the greyhound’s frenzy, which after some twenty minutes went to sit next to the cypress by the gate.

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(to be continued)