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Page 10
out the blaze of city lights snared in the haze of pollution, the night was dark. Not pitch-black, though. The moon, little more than a crescent, illuminated a pale, narrow swath that began as a pinpoint in scrub-shrouded sand and ended at the gleaming windows of his unlighted cabin.
This was his fifth month here. He had hauled wood from his truck for his many projects. He had hiked uncounted miles on the desert floor and in the weathered mountain range at whose foot he had built his cabin. The exercise had hardened his body enough that his muscles now strained against all the T-shirts and jeans he had brought.
Many nights he strolled outside to listen and commune with the serene display of nature at peace, even though he knew the tranquillity was an illusion. The nocturnal animals did not wander for the supposed joy of it, as he did. This was when they foraged for foodwhich was, most often, each other. There was, in fact, no peace here.
But that was why Mike had come: a quest for serenity.
He crossed his arms to retain some heat in his thin leather jacket. The dark brown hair he had not cut since leaving town rippled in the breeze. Cool air blew through his light jeans. The desert at night was coldas cold as many eyes in the town he had left behind. At least his face was warmed by the mustache and beard he had grown since arriving here. The air was dry and smelled of the wind-disturbed creosote bushes.

 
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