The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. “No I’m not, John. “So, since when does a grown man have to sneak behind the Laundromat to smoke a cigarette?” She asked 115 him. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog.
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