The White Sky – Andrés + Mila
a double novel by John Caedan
The White Sky: Struggle, ambition, passion for art ... a photographer of women, a sculptor of men, a runner of too many miles, a top professional with a challenge to stop deaths.
Andrés + Mila: the fire of lovemaking during their first month.
The two storylines are discrete, yet interwoven. Read one. Or the other.
Or both, in flow. Play the video for more about this unique format.
The prospect of exile does not trouble a striver out to grab purchase as a new person, arrayed proudly in the armor of adventurers, indifferent to origins, burning all behind.
Andrés knew himself to be such a warrior. Nevertheless, with his origin-home evaporating, his business in ruins, his bed empty of a lover, his art leaden and dim – loss and emptiness rushed in, threatening to overwhelm his pride.
The visage of his father flashed. He heard the dead man’s bitter curse:
"Thirty-nine years old and fucking worthless – I knew you’d end up like this."
Rallying, Andrés whispered, “My house on the mountainside burned down. So? The foundation is untouched. Get out of the way.”
His car sat at the curb fifteen feet along, loaded with possessions for summer. He strode to it with grim confidence, climbed in, set it alight, and shot into the stream of vehicles rushing to leave the great city through a tunnel under its river.
     
"You tripped over it, Andrés, the L-word. You did. Not me. You bumped into it. I'm staying clear by miles."
Mila was merciless on his error. He couldn't undo. She lit into him.
"It’s the best sex either one of us has ever had."
"Yes."
"I’m ready to go back to the studio for more, right now."
"Yes."
"I’ve not fallen in love with you, Andrés."
"I’m not in love with you either."
She leaned in. She paused theatrically.
"This is very romantic."
"Yes, it is."
To discover which of them is lying, and what happens when they go back to bed (explicit), please read The White Sky – Andrés + Mila
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