Spring 1983 • Vol. V No. 2 FictionApril 1, 1983 |

Starlings, Mute Swans, a Goose, an Impossible Angel, Evening Grosbeaks, an Ostrich, Some Ducks, and a Sparrow

A woman wearing a bib apron and carrying a man's humped lunch bucket walked past the window and Clay mistook her for an angel. She had a heavy step for an angel, but Clay leaned into the night to watch her turn left onto Alderson Street and play the lunch bucket across the Hemingways' picket fence. It was a racket the nosy neighbors claimed the next day not to have heard. Clay said it was just for him. Before that singular event he had been indistinguishable from other thirteen-year-olds. I would have noticed; a year and a half younger and still planning to get discovered into Hollywood, I looked for signs of not only my potential beauty but anything in the house, the folks, even my brother that the biographers would be able to use--signs that would go unnoticed by common people, but sure childhood indications of my star quality. My brother wasn't worth any notice on the small list I kept for the convenience of my future historian, but Clay did know about it, and did his best to

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