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polished. Mike found himself enjoying the sight of her grace of movement, her strange inquisitiveness, even though he wished he knew what she was thinking. |
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What the heck was getting into him? |
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"This bread is rather unusual," she said. "Its texture is so smooth, and the slices so even. And what is this inside the two pieces? I have heard of bread used this way, but never have I eaten it." |
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Mike rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed, shaking his head. Again, he determined to learn this woman's game. "It's plain white bread," he said. "You're eating a chicken salad sandwich." |
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"Oh," she said, digging in once more with gusto. Mike kept watching her. When she was finished eating, she thanked him. "I will have to try to make a chicken salad sandwich when next I have a chicken to slaughter," she said. He merely shook his head without otherwise responding. |
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They continued forward through the wash, Abby, obviously feeling peppier, again in the lead. They had been walking for nearly two hours total when Mike noticed that the darkness of the gray sky was deepening. He did not believe his watch had stopped, but the time seemed much later than he had thought. |
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A lightning flash in the distance gave him an unwanted explanation: a storm was coming. They were still a good hour away from his cabin. A few moments later, the air began to crush him with the odor of ozone, and rain began to splatter all about. |
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