Thereís a shudder in the patches of sunlight burning
into the floor. She catches it out of the corner of her eye. The on-coming
of doom, the sun about to flick out, the quiver proceeding the shatter of a
bulb filament. The shudder comes again, perhaps from inside her. A human
issue. But no, itís a knot of starlings cutting out the sky repeatedly
with their wings.