” “No. I thought that he was dead. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. It is a matter of degree. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. “I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you.
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