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Show 330 better," he said, holding the pants up near the window to examine his job. He glanced at Lorin. It was difficult being normal around someone who was in big trouble if he died tomorrow. "Buck up, Elder," he said. "We've been companions a long time, I know you pretty well. You'll get back in the church before you can even turn around. I think I know you well enough to say that." Except for an attack of diarrhea that sent him running to the bathroom, Lorin spent the rest of the morning lying in bed staring at the same point in the ceiling, until he grew tired of it and turned on his side to stare at a rope of dust between the edge of the carpet and the molding where the floor met the wall. He wondered what particles had gone into that elongated clump, what were its elements, what bound them together. Hair, he decided, was basic. The nondescript grey substance could be anything, clothing fibers, collapsed spider webs, dead skin cells, but strands of hair were probably what made the various particles cohere. The various things that went into dust didn't look like dust when they were in their original settings, but they looked like nothing else when they consolidated in ropes or lumps like this one. Powdered bodies of insects, maybe. He was still thinking about it when it was time to dress and go out to the car. Mrs. Green was running the vacuum cleaner as they passed through the living room. She shut it off long enough to smile and say, "Getting a late start today, guys. You're taking it pretty easy since you got sick." Sorenson slowed down to say something about bankers' hours, and Lorin stumbled into him, stepping on the heel of Sorenson's shoe, which came off. "Sorry," Lorin mumbled. "Don't worry," said Sorenson, hopping on one foot while he pulled the shoe back on. Mrs. Green beamed and started her vacuum up again. During the first part of the long drive, along the Interstate past |