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not too late!
truck started when Ansel tried it the third time, his hands gritty, the seat gritty, the whole machine rocking slightly in the brown wind. Things whose position he thought he knew—the coop, the western fence—were hidden like furniture in a room when the lights go out. He drove slowly, blindly, and came within sickening inches of the porch and then the cottonwood. Creeping along the road, he knew that he would only be aware that he had veered from its relative safety if he struck something or sank into the sand that lay in drifts along the edges. His nose was raw and—a disquieting surprise—he
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Aldine
as much pleasure as he knew it would give her, and just like that, Ellie felt lighter than air, as if she might float away. A café. Her own
pricked at her mind, and she smelled what she thought was blood. Bits of debris and muddy footprints had dried on the waiting room floor, and the dirt made what was going on in the next room feel
the baby
the things you didn’t want to hear. “I
