"He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink. My Mom’s stomach has a lot of bad scars that make it look all ropy and weird. She was pensive and thoughtful. "Was I out of my head?" "Yes. ” She said dryly. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not.
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