She was the first to hear another car approaching from the street, an odd occurrence in an elementary school lot that had been abandoned for the weekend. “You have the temperament,” he said. She was very satisfied about this. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. I told her I was sick today and she told me to get over myself. She felt sleepy and unusually irritable.
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