The pillow was lumpy no matter how she fluffed it. She had opened the window, and the breeze had finally lost its heat. She counted, lying on her back, backwards and forwards...
Then she heard something. A lonely wail, washed over again and again by the night air. Frogs croaking. Or a man singing?
Slipping to the window, she stuck her head out. The house stood alone on a hill and below her spread the black fields. In the middle of one flickered a fire, and the breeze brought her the words.
“Momma I been away
Momma I’m gonna stay”
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