"And she was just leaving. (Xedrix) Not yet, I’m not. (Aimee) Yes, you are. Adios. There’s the door. Doorknob twists to the left. The hinges open in. You should use them. Keep them working. Keep you breathing. (Xedrix)"

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And we'd sit in the dry leaves that whispered a little with the slow respiration of our waiting and with the slow breathing of the earth and the windless october, the rank smell of the lantern fouling the brittle air, listening to the dog and the echo of louis' voice dying away

— William Faulkner