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Unformatted text preview: He remembered his mother coughing as they sat together on the train going into Serbia. Why had he not forced her to see a doctor? Why? "Talk to me, Yuri," said the man. "Make up stories. Or you can tell me about her, if you wish. Tell me about your mother. I see her. I see her beautiful black hair. The doctor wouldn't have helped her, Yuri. She knew it. Talk to me, please." A faint chill passed over Yuri as he looked into the man's eyes. He knew the man was reading his thoughts. Yuri's mother had told him of gypsies who could do this. Yuri did not have this talent himself. His mother had claimed to have it, but Yuri had not believed it. He had never seen any real evidence of it. He felt a deep hurt, thinking of her on the train, and he wanted to believe that it had been too late for a doctor, but he would never know for sure. The knowledge numbed him and made him feel utterly silent and black inside and cold. "I'll tell you stories if you will eat some breakfast," sai...
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- Spring '10