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again. And immediately her uneasiness grew stronger. |
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She tried to close her eyes, ignoring the squeezing in her chest. There had been many times after her family began its trek west that she wished they had stayed home; the rigors of life on the trail had sometimes been unbearable. But now she felt a deep nostalgia for the wagon train. |
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Avoiding Mike's glance, she gasped aloud when she saw how tall some of the buildings were as they got back on the freeway in Pasadena. There were others even higher in the area called Glendale. Nearly all seemed like windowed boxes compared with the opulent splendor of the structures of her time. Did people live in them? Work in them? Maybe they were towns in themselves. And no matter how many buildings, tall and short, they passed, there always were more beyond. |
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Was this city infinite? At this speed, Mike and she had certainly covered a long distance, yet a seemingly endless expanse of freeway extended before them. |
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And with each passing mile, each new moment, Abby's anxiety intensified. |
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If only she could reveal her nervousness to Mike, could trust him and share with him, she would doubtless feel better. But even if there was an inexplicable bond between them, he was incomprehensible. Certainly an eating area should be clean; even on the trail they had made an attempt at neatness. But did clutter justify such rage? |
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