On her way north she wrote him a long-269-letter saying she didn't know what had gotten into her that day with the rattler and wouldn't he please forgive her. I'm tempted to commiserate, Mr. I won't do anything sil y. There's only one thing on Jo's calendar for the second week of Novemberin 1993.
My feet now felt too heavy for swimming, and mygoddam sneakers weighed a ton. His hair was black. Fora moment I thought she was going to put her arms around me and hug me, athank-you gesture that might have led anywhere in our current mood--oneso heightened it was almost melodramatic. I thumbed throughthe book, not able to believe what I was seeing and seeing it anyway.
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