Unformatted text preview: adows, turned his back on Larkin and walked into the conference room. Lark waited for a moment. His face was wet and he was tired, and he could not think what he meant to do. There were so many conflict-
ing thoughts in his head, so much outrage, so much impatience, so LASHER much ... so much pure astonishment. He and Mitch had made that dash together so many times, heading up to Grant Avenue to find their favorite little Gooey Louie's for egg rolls and cheap fried rice, the kind they'd loved since the New York days and med school. He stood up. He didn't know what he was going to say. He didn't know how to explain all this. He heard the door behind him open, and he saw with relief that it was Lightner, and Lightner had a manila folder in his hand. He looked drawn and tired, about as out of sorts as he'd been in the car this afternoon on the way down here. That seemed like centuries ago. Flanagan had died in the interim. They went into the conference room together. How calm these people looked, how in...
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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