He glanced up. I have worn it for weeks and weeks. For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. She had no inkling of that insupportable wrong.
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