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           RachelCreedpassedthesignreadingEXIT8KEEPRIGHTFORPORTLANDWESTBROOK,putonherblinker,andguidedtheAvisChevettetowardtheexitramp.ShecouldseeagreenHolidayInnsignclearlyagainstthenightsky.Abed,sleep.Anendtothisconstant,racking,sourcelesstension.Alsoanendforalittlewhile,atleasttohergrievingemptinessforthechildwhowasnolongerthere.Thisgrief,shehaddiscovered,waslikeamassivetoothextraction.Therewasnumbnessatfirst,buteventhroughthenumbnessyoufeltpaincurleduplikeacatswishingitstail,painwaitingtohappen.Andwhenthenovocaineworeoff,ohboy,yousureweren’tdisappointed.

           Hetoldherthathewassenttowarn...butthathecouldn’tinterfere.HetoldherhewasnearDaddybecausetheyweretogetherwhenhissoulwasdiscorporated.

           Judknows,buthewon’ttell.Somethingisgoingon.Something.Butwhat?

           Suicide?Isitsuicide?NotLouis;Ican’tbelievethat.Buthewaslyingaboutsomething.Itwasinhiseyes...ohshit,itwasalloverhisface,almostasifhewantedmetoseethelie...seeitandputastoptoit...becausepartofhimwasscared...soscared...

           Scared?Louisisneverscared!

           SuddenlyshejerkedtheChevette’ssteeringwheelhardovertotheleft,andthecarrespondedwiththeabruptsuddennessthatsmallcarshave,thetireswailing.Foramomentshethoughtitwasgoingtoturnover.

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