She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. “She has improved her style,” someone declared. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. ” He played it cool, but he had seen it in her face. ’ ‘Which is exactly what started us off,’ Gerald said to his friend with a grin, as he gave up his injured hand to the other’s ministrations.
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