That is what my mother used to call me. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. By the time John returned with popcorn and a large Coke, the theater had filled up with high-school kids. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow.
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