“How are ya, buddy? Good job at the concert. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. Who? Could it be Gerald? Quickly, she looked back at Gosse’s face, and found him frowning. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. Try something. She watched for five minutes until he completely disappeared over Pine Crest, past the yellow fire hydrant and the dented stop sign.
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