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Show 251 He was not a dream. She felt a spark of excitement fly through her, across the night of her thoughts, seeing him sitting there in the car. Waiting for her. She could not see his face in the dark, but from the angle of his profile, he was not looking toward her, through the door, but was gazing straight ahead through the windshield at the parking lot. Probably he was listening to the radio. Was he thinking about her, as he listened? About the coming evening? She went back to check out, in her excitement. He was waiting for her. But then suddenly she thought of Lynn-why now?-of how uncomfortable she had been trying to explain Roger to her at Christmas. And at the thought, her uneasiness about him returned: the spark of excitement, like a falling star, was extinguished. Wasn't that uneasiness trying to tell her something? Shouldn't she listen to it? It was like a tiny pebble in her shoe: she could ignore it, and it didn't seem to bother her; but once she did, consciously, think about it, she realized how very much it had been irritating her. Well, right now, she would just ignore it. For whatever Roger was, at least he was real: flesh and blood. Not a dream, not a figment of her imagination. She went on out the side door, he saw her coming; he got out to come around to the front of the car to the sidewalk, to open the door for her. Yes, he was real, with his big face, his black curly hair. They kissed, quickly, she searching for him, for that spark to ignite in her. But it wasn't there, now. And they settled into the car. Well, it would come later. They pulled away from the curb, on |