He would have been sixteen this year, she said. She woke with a start to find Friday sitting onher chest, staring down at her, his eyes liquid gold in the dimlamplight. The newcomer's hair was blond and fashionably cut. She gave a crack of laughter as loud andabrupt as an air horn.
The staples had been replaced. Women are the root of all evil. He shuffledthrough the excuses and the rationalizations like a deck of dog-earedplaying cards. A blush rose in his leancheeks, and he flicked the switch on the game.
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