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“Will we?”

“Oh,” he cried, face blazing with revelation “Yeah!”

“Is that all you got to say? Not ent on in the graveyard, not what you saw? Just, oh yeah?”

“Oh,” said Roy, turning to gaze back across at the graveyard “Yeah”

The church lights in the tiled patio went out The church was dark The street was dark The lights on the face of ht shadowing toward dawn

“Yeah,” whispered Roy

And drove us toward home

“I can hardly wait to get to my clay,” he said

“No!”

Shocked, Roy turned to look at ht ran over his face He looked like someone underwater, not to be touched, reached, saved

“You telling me, positively, I can’t use that face for our film?”

“It’s not just the face I got this feeling … if you do it, we’re dead God, Roy, I’ht, don’t forget Someone wanted you to see his are running too fast Pretend ere never at the Brown Derby”

“How,” asked Roy, “could I possibly do that?”

He drove faster

The wind ripped in the s, tore at my hair and my eyelids and my lips