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Michael Malone - Weebly

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in her amorousness. Neither thought the other was<br />

(utterly) perfect, and each was beginning to look<br />

forward to telling each other so as the years went by.<br />

Lance shot like a dolphin out of the pool, then<br />

crouched on the concrete beside his brother's lounge<br />

chair. "Hey, what went down after I left the house? Hi,<br />

Emerald, you're looking good. What's mom up to?"<br />

"She left."<br />

"Are you kidding? Where?"<br />

"Tracy Canopy's. She couldn't very well stay<br />

overnight with Dad now, could she? In the morning<br />

she's going back to New York."<br />

"The hell you say."<br />

Arthur helped his fiancée out of her chair. "I'll talk<br />

to you about this tomorrow, Lance, all right?" Emerald<br />

swirled her sweater in a perfect farol de rodillas so<br />

that it settled softly upon her bare shoulders.<br />

"Very good," Walter Saar was saying to Priss<br />

Ransom, who had just compared the music coming at<br />

them from tree trunks in ever louder grunts to a<br />

recording of natural childbirth. Priss had sufficiently<br />

removed from her mind the sight of those horrible eyes

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