I looked up and saw a machy. “Such’s no angel,” I said. “Just a machy. They help not. They do as with they do’s.” I watched as the machy flew away from us and finally disappeared.
Colum Fountain Curio’s owned that gray building on a muddy hill near the foot of Landing Ridge. The flat roof had three oversized vent hoods that dwarfed the building. Below the muddy hill was a muddy flat area next to a muddy creek where he built his house and painted it the same drab bluish gray. Rains splashed the surrounding muddy ground and gave both buildings muddy skirts.