Mike sat down, his body too large for the petite blue couch. Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield. I can’t even make myself care. “You should quit. Get you gone. She pulled away from him, placing her fingers on his lips for a moment. This happened after he ate. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. But a man is a mixed creature.
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