She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. “Guess who I’m going out with?” Michelle asked her one day at lunch. "Enough," said the widow, gratefully. Essentially the talk was a mixture of fragments of sentences heard, of passages read, or arguments indicated rather than stated, and all of it was served in a sauce of strange enthusiasm, thin yet intense. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo.
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