I reminded Trevor how he had kneaded the muscles of my neck and shoulders back to something like calm, that first night that I arrived.
He said, yes, he’d thought of doing that for a living, and Emma had suggested it when he first arrived, before it became clear that an English refugee, especially from that part of the North, would be suspect.
She thought it would be best if he took a job as far as possible away from his natural inclinations.
His natural inclinations were to heal and to make, so they would not look for him in a place that disassembled things that were dead, though you could feel the unfinished business in them, like Emma’s cadavers and weathered bones. Which they were, he supposed: death by violence left more than one sort of mark. He only knew that a day at work left him jangled and edgy, and making things made a difference.
This month’s Six Sentence Sunday excerpts come from books that will be revised and released in calendar year 2013. The excerpt above from The Shape-shifter’s Tale is new material written in mid-2011.