Men come tamely home at night only from the next field or street, where their household echoes haunt, and their life pines because it breathes its own breath over again; their shadows, morning and evening, reach farther than their daily steps.
He hooked the light to his belt where it swung in an eerie arc, casting jumping shadows on the rock-strewn slope and yellow streaks into nothingness.
She couldn't read his thoughts, but she saw the shadows in his eyes.
The petite woman who materialized out of the shadows wasn't what he expected. Her flawless features were unremarkable, her large eyes turning colors faster than his.
She sat on a thick log. He disappeared into the shadows of the jungle, and she pulled her knees to her chest, listening. He was silent while the branches overhead hissed and rasped against one another and the cries of distant birds drifted to her.