| Off they went, heigh-ho for
the caldo largo
I... 375 |
[Feb. 11th, 2010|03:48 am] |
Off they went, heigh-ho for
the caldo largo
I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant by the
rip, then remembered a painting by Winslow Homer,
romantic but of undeniable power: Undertow
The intercom on the wall beeped, startling us both
Wireman struck the folder with his arm as he
turned around, knocking photocopies and faxes
everywhereWireman!" It was Annmarie Whistler
Wireman, are you there?"
"I'm here," Wireman saidWireman?" She sounded agitatedThen, as if
to herself: "Jesus, where are you?"
"The fucking button," he muttered, and went to the
wall unit, not quite runningWhat's wrong? What's happened? Did she
fall?"
"No!" Annmarie cried"She's awake! Awake and
aware! She's asking for you! Can you come?"
669
"Right away," he said, and turned to |
|
|
