FIRST SUMMER S TALE
A Bait of Dreams
A
s Gleia hurried along the
uneven planks of the walk-
way， pattering around the
bodies of sleeping drunks， slipping past workmen
and market women， Horli s red rim bathed the
street in blood-red light， painting a film of charm
over the focades of the sagging buildings.
She glanced up repeatedly， fearing to see the
blue light of the second sun Hesh creeping into the
sky. Late. Her breath came raggedly as she tried to
move faster. She knocked against people in the
crowded street， dra ~ing curses a~ter her.
Late. Nothing had gone right this morning. When
Horli s light had crept through the holes in her
torn shade and touched her face， one look at the
clock sent her into a panic， kicking the covers
frantically aside， tearing her nightgown over her
head. No time to eat. No time to discipline her
wild hair. She dragged a comb through the worst
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