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Show 103 "Forget it," Jewel says. "You have all your stuff at the hotel," Hall says. He's not sure what it is, precisely, that he's done. His car feels put of control, slightly. "God, I'd put you in order." Jewel is crying. "I'd, damnit, put you in order: Why couldn't you have stayed there?!" Hunt stops imagining. He tries. Does Leah feel like Jewel? Does a part of Leah wish Hunt had simply left? Or is Leah happy? Has Leah ever been happy? What makes her happy? Does Hunt? Does Hunt make anyone happy? Does Hunt have an actual exchange with any other person? Or is he just always . . . off by himself: like right now, in the middle of this Michigan night, trying to put his skewed frame around The Universe? Suddenly, in the bed, Hunt feels topheavy. It seems, that if he's not careful, he is just going to slip off onto the floor. And wake Leah. Hall's crisis is not Jr[s, Hunt instructs himself. Leah is not Jewel. Leah's mother's alive! Hunt only visited Florida once, when he was twelve. And he and Leah are married! Hunt gave up fascination with chemistry years ago. But what is the resolution of Hall? What about Jewel? What about the two of them? Coming parallel to Las Vegas Boulevard South on the highway, Jewel wonders aloud: "Am I in a television show? Is this whole thing a television show of some sort? I feel like I should be a print of myself or something. Like |