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Show Coffee Drinkers Preferred ' Page 285 of 307 of my dead sister Nauvoo. I thought of booze. I thought of the Battle of the Hill Cumorah and the millions of artifacts that not a single one of the faithful can find. I thought of how soon the Church would be telling us that the geography in our famous little book is not of this world but of a spiritual world and this is why none of those artifacts can be found here, on Earth. I thought of other things that hadn't been found, like Dale Cox attracting the attention of tuna and the small sharks that inhabit the bay. I thought of all the bodies that are never found at all. I thought of Sarah and that she kissed me, not out of desperation or coersion the way that Meg wanted me, but because she liked me. And she liked me because we were alike. I don't talk about soul mates. I don't pretend to know about anything like that, but I did know that Sarah and I were just two people who fit well together. I hadn't brought a jacket. I walked out into that storm blowing up outside wearing a t-shirt and wranglers. Put a sweaty gray cowboy hat on me and I was one hundred percent Sanpete chic. Lines of palm trees swayed in the wind and waved their long thin clusters of leaves wildy at the top of tall curving brown trunks. A light rain had started to fall in this wind and the tiny drops didn't exactly sting but they were not pleasant. Santa Barbara at the edge of a storm hardly looked the paradise that everyone claimed it to be. |