The son of Icarus

There was a loud noise, like stomach slapping swimming pool. In the houses nearby, slumberers stirred; a few got up to visit the bathroom, refill water glasses. Everybody thought they really ought to see about the noise, but everybody also thought someone else would do it; there was no need. And so the neighbourhood slept on, and the man who had fallen from the sky stood head-down in a flower bed, feet flickering beneath a street lamp.

It would have been too late, anyway. The earth had sluiced into him and filled every corner with itself, turning him to stone.

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