The Devil in Silver

by Victor LaValle

Fuck that. Sue couldn’t dredge up the patience. She also hadn’t told him the straight truth. She’d told him she had less than a week before she’d be deported, but really it was happening later today. (Less than a week could mean six days, after all, or two.) She couldn’t dream of a better way to spend her last night. Sharing these feelings, those touches, with him. All that might’ve been ruined if he knew how close to the end they really were. “Why are you so quiet now?” Sue asked. Pepper lay with his right arm out and her head on his bicep. He closed his arm around her chest. “I guess I was just imagining …” “Tell me.” “I was just picturing us out in the woods somewhere. And it’s the middle of winter and no one else is anywhere around.” “That’s nice,” she whispered. “And a tree snaps,” Pepper said. “A big one. Maybe under the weight of too much snow. And the tree comes down right on top of you. And you’re pinned underneath it. You can’t get out. I have to find a way to lift it so you’ll be okay.” Sue wriggled free from his forearm. “You’re daydreaming about me getting killed?” Pepper rolled over, confused. “I’m dreaming about saving you.”

I don't think I've ever seen a writer so dedicately and masterfully work PoV for rhetorical purposes.