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Excerpt from The Weight of Rain


Everything triggers her memory: a flower, a certain slant of light,
the shape of a cloud, one of her cassette tapes...

Just the other day I found a story she'd read to me shortly after she
settled into the apartment. "The Blue Guitar" makes more sense to me now.
I don't know if it's literary or not. Who cares? It is rather poetic.
She said she was working on the resolution of a conflict.

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