“But now,” he said, narrowing his eyes and staring hard at the changing shapes of light and water and limbs, looking. “I guess I don’t need that, and the things she says are just clips of the things she used to say to me all the time. I don’t see her quite as clear as I used to . . . but she’s there for me. And I’m there for her. And I know . . . she’s just waiting.”

 

 

  Tim Green, The First 48

 

 

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