Alice Munro Wild Swans -

She didn’t know what to say. Her mother had warned her about flatterers, about men who commented on her hair or her dress. But no one had warned her about men who talked about swans.

He smiled. It was a small, almost sad smile. “There’s a late bus. We’d be back by morning.” alice munro wild swans

“I don’t know you,” she said.

He did not offer her a pill. He offered her a story. He told her about a lake he knew, north of the city, where the swans stopped every autumn. He described the sound—a low, rustling thunder, like the sky tearing. He described the whiteness of their bodies against the dark water, so stark it was almost cruel. She didn’t know what to say

She said, “How would we get there?”

“Would you like to see them?” he asked. “The swans. They’ll be landing any day now.” He smiled