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"
That
’
s
nobody
to
talk
to
in
spades
.
"
"
Maybe
you
’
re
right
.
"
"
Damn
right
I
am
.
There
’
s
nobody
as
lonely
as
an
all
-
married
man
.
"
"
How
do
you
know
?
"
"
I
see
’
em
.
I
’
m
looking
at
one
.
Guess
I
’
ll
get
a
bag
of
cold
beer
and
see
if
Margie
Young
-
Hunt
will
play
.
She
don
’
t
keep
hours
.
"
"
I
don
’
t
think
she
’
s
in
town
,
Morph
.
She
told
my
wife
—
at
least
I
think
she
did
—
that
she
was
going
up
to
Maine
till
the
heat
is
over
.
"
"
Goddam
her
.
Well
—
her
loss
is
the
barkeep
’
s
gain
.
I
’
ll
tell
him
the
sad
episodes
of
a
misspent
life
.
He
don
’
t
listen
either
.
So
long
,
Eth
.
Walk
with
God
!
That
’
s
what
they
say
in
Mexico
.
"
The
narwhal
stick
tapped
on
the
pavement
and
punctuated
my
wondering
about
why
I
told
Joey
that
.
She
wouldn
’
t
talk
.
That
would
spoil
her
game
.
She
had
to
keep
the
pin
in
her
hand
grenade
.
I
don
’
t
know
why
.
I
could
see
the
Chrysler
standing
at
the
curb
by
the
old
Hawley
house
when
I
turned
into
Elm
Street
from
the
High
,
but
it
was
more
like
a
hearse
than
a
freight
car
,
black
but
not
gleaming
by
reason
of
the
droplets
of
rain
and
the
greasy
splash
that
rises
from
the
highways
.
It
carried
frosted
parking
lights
.
It
must
have
been
very
late
.
No
lights
shone
from
the
sleeping
houses
on
Elm
Street
.
I
was
wet
and
I
must
somewhere
have
stepped
in
a
puddle
.
My
shoes
made
a
juicy
squidging
sound
as
I
walked
.
