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Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2006
Grant was having some processing problems. In his ear Arlene urgently whispered a mad tale about Johnny's demise. His eyes, forward, were fixed on the backs of Johnny and Deborah, who were leading them down a quiet semi-urban street toward Harvard Square. Well, to be honest, his eyes were mainly fixed on the lower part of Deb's back, where everything seemed to slope gracefully inward on its way down, compacting, gathering its energies, before it exploded into the most glorious hips and buttocks that Grant had ever known. Despite the dissonance between the inputs of his ears and his eyes, Grant's mind was even further afield. He was thinking about the silence that existed right in front of him between Deb and Johnny. It was the easy, casual silence that seemed to belong exclusively to the very, very cool, and seemed forever denied to Grant. He was half tempted to accelerate, catch up to Johnny and Deb, join their silence, and become part of it. But he knew he'd start talking right away, or even if he didn't Johnny or Deb would make some conversation, locking him out of their silence as they tried to make him comfortable. He couldn't get in there without altering it. Damn. Damn.