and one of the cardinal rules of good fiction is never tell us a thing if you can show us, instead: ‘What you reckon?’ the boy asked. He doodled a stick in the dirt without looking up. What he drew could have been a ball, or a planet, or nothing but a circle. ‘You reckon the earth goes around the sun like they say?’ ‘I don’t know what they say,’ Mistuh Butts replied. ‘I ain’t never studied what thisun or thatun says, because eachun says a different thing until your head is finally achin and you lose your aminite.’ ‘What’s aminite?’ the boy asked. ‘You don’t never shut up the questions!’ Mistuh
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