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Show Woodworth/l63 sized t-shirt. The maroon one with the white piping and the white lettering, "Harvard," over the heart. Megan would be sitting cross-legged, her feet pulled in close to her body. The scar on-hep fesee^, from when she had slipped and fallen on broken glass would cut a ragged smile across her knee. You could only know someone in your family that well. They didn't have to even be there, and you know how they.looked, what they were wearing. Just as if they're with you all the time. Megan wouldn't be paying attention to her scar, or to her t-shirt. She would be holding the receiver tight against her ear, and winding a strand of hair around and around with her other hand. She would be waiting for Marty to say something. She concentrates hard on the sofa cover. It is important that she feel every detail. There is the picture of the ship. The upper right corner ripped and re-taped. Does the ship have a pennant on the top of the main mast? No. "Marty?" Megan asks quietly. "Yeah?" "Do you think. I mean really. That Mom is capable of hurting herself. Killing herself?" All the answers go through her head at once. Yes. No. I don't know. How should I know? What do you think? Certainly not. Maybe. Yes. "I mean they say that, a lot of the time, it runs in the family," Megan says. Her voice seems abnormally quiet, as if she has put the receiver down, and is speaking from the other side of the room. Marty feels goose-bumps rising along her arms and legs in spite of the heat. r That it's a genetic tendency, or something like that." |