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The good days dot my memory like sand dollars on the beach. Prizes to collect, dead as they are.
A very little poison can do a world of good. It’s all about how you apply it.”
The feel of the mountains is unmistakable, a quiet, hovering presence, both enormous and close, like being lost and found at the same time.
It’s deceptive that way, lures you in. They think the toxic ones are all bright red or orange, but it’s the ones that aren’t obvious that are the deadliest.”
The whole place gave him an uncomfortable feeling, like it was smiling with a bullet behind its teeth.
smell. I place my nose on top of the Lab’s head and breathe in deep. He smells like comfort.
“It’s like I always say, a very little poison can do a world of good.”
The black-throated wail of a loon rides the scattering fog from nearby Crow Lake, and I can picture those red eyes splitting the morning like heralds of hell.
He laughs. “No. This is just a primer. In another couple of weeks, you’ll think you fell into a Willard Leroy Metcalf painting. It’s like fireworks going off all over these mountains.”
“And you know what they say—a very little poison can do a world of good,” she adds with a wink.
Beneath the pain, Myrtle is there. In the words. In the room. She is guiding me still, I realize. She is on my side.
Between saving him and taking down the Strangler, I’ve left the world a little bit better than I found it.