" He paused, and not without malice. He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. “You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence. Then he could hear Hilary breathing beside him, and from outside the muted twittering of birds.
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