His heart beats irregularly sometimes. He feels it at night, when he's lying in bed, listening to the silence, or to the crying dance of the curlews. It sounds like dozens of them out there, tip-toeing up and down the street, calling their screaming, wailing, keening cry, but it's only two. Once a curlew came up to his front door. He saw it by chance and approached, but it backed away into the night. Then the cry came, and something moved in his bones. What were they calling, if not something beyond this life, beyond what he could see?
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