Halfway across the parking lot, near a little cluster of newspaperdispensers, my wife fell down. I thought the three of us wereon the TR until this was over. No crows or owls calling from the woods. Youbound for the Promised Land.
It isn'tbroken--this memoir came out with nary a gasp or missed heartbeat--butthe machine has stopped, just the same. There was method in hismadness. I could see the shirtshe was wearing, a white tee with a yellow duck paddling across thefront. You don't realize the weight of a healthy child untilyou hold one, nor do you fully comprehend the life that runs throughthem like a bright wire.
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