She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. “Quite on my own,” she said. Jonathan, however, was nowhere to be seen. I loved her beyond anything in heaven or on earth—to idolatry. This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. She rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards.
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