These clothes ain't fit. A week later they were on the Chicago of the French Line steaming out through the Narrows. A mosquito buzzedaround my ear and I waved it away. And Kyra's not going to go walking in the roadanymore.
Dear God, Imuttered, and wiped my face with a shaking hand. I taught myself when I was two. I swam until Icould feel strands of waterweed tickling my ankles and see the crescentof my beach. I suppose I was lucky to black out,but I think my real luck on New Year's Morning of 1998 that I tippedover the way I did.
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