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Show Hannah Mae and the Mona Lisa 107 25 That same Friday, Miss Larkin stopped by the market. She waited while I sold some beans. When I finished, she asked, "How's Colby?" "He's lots better," I said. "He's planning on coming back to work tomorrow. But he still has a piece of mending ahead." "And how are you getting along?" "I'm okay." "Not extraordinary?" I lost my voice for a minute. Painful images flashed in my head. Blinking red lights. A crumpled truck. Colby's lost shoe. I nodded toward the road. I mumbled, "Miss Larkin, I suspect I lost my extraordinary on that highway . . . if I ever had any." She didn't speak. Her eyes followed the asphalt. "Can I help you with something?" I asked. |