Tuesday, May 8, 2007


Deep into marriage, they walked by the lake, the yellow piles of drift lying link-armed in the dark. It's late, she said. Too late. She pointed at a turtle climbing from the weeds. It's barely four, he answered. She took his hand, held it, and then threw it from her chest. Ouch, he said. She laughed and kissed him, pointed toward the terrible water.

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