"Coupling their presence with Jack's speech, I couldn't help fearing some mischief might ensue. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ” Mike knocked on the thin core door that sealed her and Shari’s bedroom from the outside world. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations.
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