pg 48


July 23, 2009, 7:35 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

she pressed her face up against the glass to see it. on both sides others were doing the same thing. noses that touched faces and touched against glass that made its money in the coal mines or dropped out of school to work at making mattresses and find dimes that would be worth more than all the dimes they could hope to find if they kept on looking for dimes. what business would any dime have being worth more than a dime? all their dime lives that was their rock, their sense of worth. hell in the crazy world of dimes, being worth 10 cents was really all one could be sure of. everything else was nothing else.

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