the water
I found Kelvin on the roof of the yurt, a round, home-made structure in the woods behind the house. “Hi,” I said, approaching. He peered over the edge to look down at me. “Oh, hi.” “Alexandra sent me here to help you get the shingles on the roof before it starts to rain.” Straightening a little, he studied the sky in his slow way. The trees in the hills below were only just starting to change color, and far off in the distance, down beyond the forest, we could see the grey cloud waiting its turn to break up the blue above us. It smelled too like it would rain soon. “Oh. Ok. Come on up,” he said. Kelvin and Lee had built the yurt together the previous month. Tall and octagonal, with weathered wood walls and a high ceiling, it was tucked away between the trees and almost ready to be inhabited by artists or wanderers. They had raided the junkyards on Martha’s Vi...