“The kind old lady, Myrna, wouldn’t let me go for the longest time. She babbled on about how much I reminded her of one of her grandchildren; we had the same perky smile and good manners, the same – ugh – sparkling wit. What do you say to something like that? “Thanks,” I mumbled, my mouth full of donut. “Of course,” said Myrna, “Emma’s hair is dark, like my daughter’s, and yours is …” “Chestnut,” I helped her. “Is it really?” “Like my mom’s.” “You and Emma have so much in common. I really think ...the two of you would get along like a house on fire.” Finally she left me alone. I saw an opportunity and snuck back to the van, getting the surprise of my life when I saw Marty sitting up in the seat. “What are you doing?” I whispered. “Get your head down. We’ll be leaving soon.” “Oh.” He frowned. “Right.” I gave him a donut. “I know that man and woman,” he said. “Where do I know them from?” “The gas station,” I said. “They were at the gas station.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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