I poured hydrogen peroxide into my cupped palm, steeled myself, andslapped it onto the gash back there like aftershave. Get out! I thought you were retired. Seventy, I'dthought, but that had to be at least ten years beyond the actual mark. I supposeevery family has at least one story like that; the survival of theworld's Peties and Kyras is a convincing argument--in the minds ofparents, anyway for the existence of God.
I rolled it into themachine, centered it, then wrote Chapter One and waited for the storm tobreak. I padded down the hall and picked up the phone. ' She was always the superstitious one, youknow--knocking on wood, tossing a pinch of salt over her shoulder if shespilled some, those four-leaf-clover earrings she used to have. T'wasn't just a few times, either.
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