XV. PAIR
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These days Geryon was experiencing a pain not felt since childhood.
His wings were struggling. They tore against each other on his shoulders
like the little mindless red animals they were.
With a piece of wooden plank he’d found in the basement Geryon made a back brace
and lashed the wings tight.
Then put his jacket back on. You seem moody today Geryon anything wrong?
said Herakles when he saw Geryon
coming up the basement stairs. His voice had an edge. He liked to see Geryon happy.
Geryon felt his wings turn in, and in, and in.
Nope just fine. Geryon smiled hard with half of his face. So tomorrow Geryon.
Tomorrow?
Tomorrow we’ll take the car and drive out to the volcano you’ll like that.
Yes.
Get some photographs. Geryon sat down suddenly. And tonight—Geryon? You okay?
Yes fine, I’m listening. Tonight—?
Why do you have your jacket over your head?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Can’t hear you Geryon. The jacket shifted. Geryon peered out. I said sometimes
I need a little privacy.
Herakles was watching him, his eyes still as a pond. They watched each other,
this odd pair.