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Unformatted text preview: to see Mona's room come alive at eight o'clock, what with the computer talking like that as the coffeepot gurgled and hissed, and the microwave oven went on to heat the rolls with a tiny beep, and CNN Headline News came alive and talking on the TV. "I like to wake up connected," said Mona. The paperboy had learned to throw the Wall Street Journal up to the second floor porch outside her window. Mona, to find Mona. To find Mona, she was going to Chestnut Street. She had come so far. Time to cross big Washington Avenue. She should have crossed it at the light back there, but then she might not have seen Julien. Every- thing works out. The morning was still and empty, and quiet. And the oaks made a church of the street. And there stood the old firehouse so deserted. Had the firemen gone away? But that was way off her course. She had to go down Chestnut Street now, and here would come the slippery sidewalks, the bricks and the stones, and it was best perhaps that she walked in the street itself, just along...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10