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Unformatted text preview: Do it. He wanted to take off her long pants again and be inside her. She didn't mind it, but she had to be going to New Orleans. She really did. Look, it was dark again, positively late-night dark. The stars would be hanging low over the field outside, over the swampland, over the smooth highway with its silver wires, and its dreamy white lights. Got to start walking. "Come on, honey." "I told you, we can't make a baby," she said. "It just won't work." "That's just fine, darlin'. I don't mind at all about not making a baby. Come on, now, you're my sweet little thing. What if I turned off the music? And here, I got you some milk? Some fresh milk. Said you wanted some more milk, remember? Look, I got you ice cream too." "Hmmmm, that's good," she said. "Turn down the dial on the music." Only then could she move. The music was little and tiny and thumping on her brain, kind of like a fish splashing in a tiny pool, trying to get bigger. It was...
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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