It was a goddamsuicide note. Except for the furious beat of the storm, I was alone in the ruinsof my wife's studio. in my arms while the grass burned in littleclumps and the man who had fancied her as much as I had lay unconsciousbeside her, h Ayuh, they do.
It felt as real as any of thethings I'd experienced in my measles fever-delirium. That senseof mystery was very much with me. But when she looked in the mirror they weren't red at al and there was a flash of heartfelt feeling in her eyes, so she just freshened up her face and went back up to the lobby, where J. olded playing card or acouple of beer coasters; I saw no ghosts; I decided this was a seriouslyfucked-up carnival just the same.
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