” She gave him a Marboro which he lit with a Zippo with an American flag on it. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. His sword done with, he took up the bludgeon; balanced it in his hand; upon the points of his fingers; and let it fall with a smash, intentionally, upon the table. Just sit down on that stool again and let’s talk of this in cold blood. Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays.
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