From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. “You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest. Socks and shoes were harder to find, and she ended up wearing men’s athletic tube socks and a pair of dust caked flip-flops that had sat forlornly in Locker 49 since 1978. ‘None of them means anything to you at all? How odd. She removed it. Of course, one doesn’t like to talk about things until there are things to talk about. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. She found next morning, when she came to this advertisement answering, that it was more difficult than she had supposed. ‘That’s better. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. Wood from pressing his suit long ago.
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