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She knew she was being silly and stubborn. It was a gentle admonishment, as well as a request that she lighten up a bit. No matter how sad, how angry she was, she and her son had the kind of chemistry that made it difficult to fight. Such a fine upstanding young gentleman, so strong and healthy. It felt as if the walls were closing in around him. He put his hand to his forehead and stood there, thinking hard.
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And though they were both dead, the fungus grew on. There were three more Germans, trying to break the door open. Everywhere he saw a soldier, he hollered about the carnagene being loose. Leslie could be a womman, come to think. I wait until my words are cold enough to post.
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