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He was 25 years old. He combed his hair like James Dean.
She was 15. She took music lessons and could twirl a baton.
For a while they lived together in a tree house.
In 1959, she watched while he killed a lot of people.
At this moment, I didn’t feel shame or fear, but just kind of blah, like when you’re sitting there and all the water’s run out of the bathtub.
And what’s the man I’ll marry gonna look like? What’s he doing right this minute? Is he thinking about me now, by some coincidence, even though he doesn’t know me? Does it show on his face? For days afterwards I lived in dread. Sometimes I wished I could fall asleep and be taken off to some magical land, and this never happened.
Yeah, you look tired… Listen, honey. when all this is over, I’m going to sit down and buy you a big, thick steak
I don’t want a steak.
Well, we’ll see about that… Hey, lookie
In the distance I saw a train making it’s way across the plain… like the caravan in the adventures of Marco Polo.
It was our first taste of civilization in weeks and I asked Kit if we could have a closer look
We moved closer to border at the hedge of horizon
He needed me now more than ever, but something had come between us. I’d stopped even paying attention to him.
Instead I sat in the car and read a map and spelled out entire sentences with my tongue on the roof of mouth where nobody could read them.