“Nora,” came the voice from beneath the
sleeping bag, slow and dreamlike.
She turned. “Yes?”
Smithback looked at her. “Nora,”
he said again. “You know, after all
that’s happened between us … well, I’d really like to tell you how I feel.”
She stared at him. Then, gliding
closer, she took his hand in hers.
“Yes?”
His lips parted in a feeble grin.
“I really feel like shit,” came the dry whisper.
Nora shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You’re incorrigible.”
(from Thunderhead,
by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child)
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