The lamp is on. Gillian's wrist is wedged between the covers of a book, that worry has ensured she cannot read. "Where could he be?" She stares at a digital clock, its numerals incandescent. "1:35. He should be home. I'll wait another minute." She concentrates on the red-lit 5... waits for it to change... reaches toward the receiver... 6... and dials.

 

 

Michelle extracts...

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