Michael Malone - Weebly

young, too unlucky, crumpled dead into ditches, the
spaces they left in the crowd gone in an instant. The
black-and-white picture pushed its way across Judith
Haig's eyes as she tried to listen to what Sarah was
saying. Such pictures (images seen on television, stories
told her) often assaulted her mind without warning and
were, she suspected, among the causes of her heart
condition. She dreaded their coming, as epileptics
dread the look of light that foreshadows seizure.
Still talking, Sarah jabbed out a final sequence of
buttons, and the drawer binged open. "Look at that!
Forty-eight forty. People should refuse, just refuse to
pay these prices. It's criminal. They're strangling us."
"Yes."
"Well, what can we do, we have to eat."
"Yes."
"Anyhow, let me finish. Maynard found out about it,
he'd been overseas, too—haven't I told you this
before?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Joined the Marines in Argyle. Anyhow, they say he
beat up both those Polacks, took Chinkie off, and