These Dreams of You

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Viv says, “If the creek were up, we could sleep to the sound of it beneath us.”

“Isn’t that the creek?” says Zan, listening.

“I hear it too,” says Parker, “it’s not the creek. It sounds like a radio far away,” and all of them turn toward the end of the old bridge and gaze up at the apex of its frame where the four-year-old girl is perched, staring out at the mouth of the canyon and whatever should roll in from the ocean.