Where Silence Gathers Read Online Free PDF

discovery, this burning knowledge that yearns to expand and grow. Something I should have known. It may mean nothing; it might mean everything.
    My father saw them too.

    Angus sits on the bench outside of Saul’s store, holding a jar in his hands.
    The town clock is going off again. It does that every single hour, on the dot, no matter how annoying we find it or how much we complain. Just like Joe and his damn radio station, playing all that Elvis. Dong. Dong. Dong .
    I slam the car door shut and approach my small neighbor. “What are you doing out here? Are your parents fighting again?” Angus just nods. I squat in front of him. “Is that a new jar?”
    â€œFound it,” he mumbles, swiping at his nose. His sleeve leaves behind a streak of dirt. I smile a little, watching him use the edge of his shirt to clean the glass. He does so with a painstaking dedication that I’ve never given anything.
    â€œHow many jars does that make, now? Fifty?”
    Angus shrugs. It’s strange, the fact that he’s more talkative through a wall than here, where the sun makes everything bright. Then again, maybe it does make sense. It’s easier in the dark, sometimes, with a barrier between you and everything else.
    â€œHave you decided what you’re going to do with them yet?” I press.
    Nothing.
    I stand and let Angus revel in the silence we don’t get in the apartments.
    The moment I step through the front door I smell dinner. Well, I smell dinner burning. I set my bag on the floor and tug my boots off. With a heavy sensation in my chest, I wander down to the kitchen. The maps look older in the lamplight, and the harsh lines of the world seem softer. Saul has even more in his office, framed maps that are worth more money than anything else we own. They’re ancient and yellowed and treasured, and if looking at something could make it fade, Saul would have had lost his maps long ago. I’ve never asked him what he finds so fascinating about them; I’ve just accepted it. Same with Angus and his jars. We all cling to something.
    Missy and Saul wait in the kitchen, talking in low voices. Once again Saul is at the table, his silver hair shining in the dusk. Missy is leaning against the edge of the counter with a bowl in one hand and spoon in the other.
    â€œHi,” I say, going to sit beside my uncle.
    In unison, they focus on me and put on their smiles. “Hi, honey,” Missy says. She’s mashing potatoes.
    â€œAbout time you showed up.” Saul wraps his arm around my shoulders. Guess he’s not mad at me anymore, or at least he’s doing a better job of hiding it. He smells like cigars and … garbage. I wrinkle my nose. Saul notices and pulls away, sighing. “Damn animal got in the trash cans again,” he says. “Had to clean it up.”
    My aunt pours a glass of water and slides it in front of me. She picks her spoon back up and starts mashing again. “How was your day?”
    â€œFine. Yours?” I take a drink so I don’t have to come up with anything else to say.
    Missy and Saul exchange a glance, probably without meaning to. I see it and clench my fist under the counter. If Saul feels the tension in me, he doesn’t comment.
    â€œSo are we going to do this or what?” I ask, trying to sound flippant.
    Silence. I attempt to interpret their wordless conversation . Do you want to take this? No, you do it. Are you sure? I’m sure. Okay . Looks like Missy draws the short stick.
    â€œThe school called,” she says, brushing a stray hair out of her eyes. Her black hair has gray streaks it didn’t used to. When did she stop dyeing it? “You missed class today.”
    I study the designs in the wooden table, losing myself in the thick and thin lines. They wait patiently for me to respond. But what can I say? What can I tell them? It feels like any words would only cause more damage.
    â€œDo you need help with