. I don't know. Come on." "But why does she have her hand inside her buttons? Why is she rubbing her tummy?" "Shhh. Maybe she has a tummyache." "But, but ... why is she smiling?"-----She looked at the large dog. It held her gaze.She saw the recognition in its liquid brown eyes, felt the stir deep in the pit of her stomach, the looseness, and the sudden presence of moisture.It knew.She knew.-----"Can I call you?", your email says. I think for a few minutes, and then burn my boats. "I'm sorry. Would you be hurt if I said no?" I spin some tale about security, paranoia and broken rules, but in truth I'm ashamed to let you hear my voice, which is way too low.-----The queue at the ticket-office is long and slow-moving. The vaulted ceiling of the tall foyer amplifies sound, but no one is talking -- only the click of heels on the marble floor as another theatre-goer leaves the desk and the line inches forward. I feel the heat of someone's glance invade my face, and look down to avoid the. It was her only hope.Donna breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the lit gas station sign in the distance. It was just beginning to get dark.Donna coasted her coughing car toward the station and prayed that this time things would work out.There was no other car at the pump, and Donna pulled her purse up onto her lap as the attendant approached. Extra protec- tion, she thought, and anyway, she would have to pay him.The attendant was a greasy-looking kid in his mid-teens, and he was grinning stupidly at Donna as she rolled down the window. His grin froze, though, when she rolled the window down and he leaned forward into the car."Damn, lady, your car sure does stink. What happened, some- thing crawl in here and die?"Damn it, Donna thought. She'd gotten used to the smell of the piss while she'd been driving over here, but to someone breathing fresh air it had to be like sticking their head into a toilet.And now he was looking right down at her, and saw everything. "Why, lady, you're.
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