On game day, until five o'clock or so, the white desert light held off the essential Sunday gloom-autumn sinking into winter, loneliness of October dusk with school the next day-but there was always a long still moment toward the end of those football afternoons where the mood of the crowd turned and everything grew desolate and uncertain, onscreen and off, the sheet-metal glare off the patio glass fading to gold and then gray, long shadows and night falling into desert stillness, a sadness I couldn't shake off, a sense of silent people filing toward the stadium exits and cold rain falling in college towns back east.
( Donna Tartt )
[ The Goldfinch ]
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