For a moment so much input—all of it wrong—crashed in on her that she was incapable of moving. ”Her eyes opened. All in that tiny, not-quite-even type. If I paid you back for all, I reckon you’d finish in pieces, so I’m only going to pay you for hitting me when I didn’t know it was coming.
”Aunt Cord sat in her chair, knitting in her lap, eyebrows raised, waiting for more. then lifted his hands skyward in a weary, distracted gesture. She could sleep, she thought. especially last night.
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