Everyone I knew was scraping bowls. “No paraquat,” I said, cautiously. She was beautiful, deep subsaharan black skin and a boisterous riot of wond...rfully unruly curls. For a moment I could have sworn she had horns, but when I looked again it was a trick of the light.She gave an insulted glance. “What do you take me for? This is the kind herb, man. Got a hell of a kick to it.”From her Australian accent, I could tell she was from down under. She held out the herb for me to sniff. She was right.. He had one more week to work thenhe would be retired. At supper on Friday night he told Sarah, hiswife, that the forty-five years had actually went pretty fast. Healso told her the meat was a little overdone. He was alwayscomplaining about her cooking. She didn't say anything but knew hewould soon be talking different. She saw him itch his breast andsmiled to herself. After supper he went to sit in his recliner. Sarah knew he wouldbe taking his usual one-hour nap. As she did dishes she. More

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