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Show Motherlunge a novel 159 and my guess was that it (his demise) would be due to something cardiovascular. Jack was tall and wide, sandy-haired, with big, tubular arms and the expression of contented mischief that long-approved-of boys tend to have. I supposed it came from self-esteem. Yet there he was, one of life's winners, sitting in a bar with me, a long-faced girl with glasses who was biting her nails. What would his fraternity brothers say if they could see him now? "It's hard to say what will happen," I began. Our beers arrived in front of us on the table, and I took a long, stalling drink. "You sound exactly like Pavia." "Genetic, I guess." I sucked on my ring finger, which had begun to bleed as a result of my pulling the cuticle off with my teeth. "Anyway, what does Pavia say?" "You probably know more than I do. I don't know. We're just... we're all about Xavier, and we're together all the time, and to me it feels.. .it feels like a good fit." Jack bridged his fingers together in front of him on the table, somewhat listlessly. Here's the church, I thought. "Maybe she doesn't want to be fitted, you know?" Jack shook his head. "Maybe she's changed-maybe she needs some room." "Did she say that?" I shrugged. Jack took a judicious breath in. "She communicated to me that she thinks we need to be somewhat conservative as we determine our next course of action as a couple. With |