" perhaps she had been thinking about nathan and the old days . perhaps she was missing him . i don't know . they seemed so cozy together , paige . it was as if the conversation between them had continued all these years ."
paige was not a natuural knitter and she had throuble looping a stitch back onto the needle ." think yourself lucky it is just an occasional encounter . in the old stories , rose would have died of grief , or killed herself and returned to haunt you ."
"she does that without ghaving gione to the bother of dying ."
"what a pity you don't write or paint . it's a good subject and your experience is fisrthand ." paige carefully placed her needles together and package in a bag .
"ah ," i cried ." that's the trouble ...." the only too-well - remembered sounds of new babies in thier plastic cots provided a counterpoint to my cry ." that's the point . everything i do is second ..... secondhand . everything has been seen and done before . nathan set up home before . he had children before . he had friends before ....." oh yes , frosty frosts . the disappproving lockharts ....." a whole raft of them . lined up in rows . and nathna has family . boy , does he have family - that was set in stone before i arrived , and it has no intention of unsetting itself ." i paused ." and then there is rose ."
that blew the lid off the jar of maggots in my brian and they were crwling , everywhere . soon . i must catch them and put them back . i contemplated my hands ." i'm not complaining or aqnything ." i said ." just telling ."
"well , you are complaining ." paige pointed out ." but that's fine . you can complain to me . and i can tell you that rosre is nothing . you've built her up for no good reason ."
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