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[Magazine] New Scientist. Vol. 210. No 2811

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Extra info for [Magazine] New Scientist. Vol. 210. No 2811

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Give me your home number, and I'll pass that on to Ms. " There was a pause, then a magnanimous, "Oh, I don't want her having to pay. " "I'm sure you would," Poppy replied. After another pause, Aileen Miller responded with resignation. " Page 21 Barbara Delinsky - An Accidental Woman Poppy wrote down the woman's name and number, then disconnected the call and made one of her own. "Police office," came a grumble on the other end. "Willie Jake, it's me. " "Only that she was arrested. " "I didn't 'let' it happen," came the indignant reply.

A quick trip to the bathroom, where everything was perfectly situated for wheelchair access, and a cursory washing up was all she allowed herself this morning. What time she spent was in layering up her legs and pulling on sheepskin boots, so that her feet didn't chill without her knowing it. On the porch, draped in a heavy parka, she combed her pixie-short hair with her fingers as she watched the headlights of Micah's truck approach. The road was narrow but paved, the latter being one of the concessions that Poppy had made when, soon after the accident, her parents had carved off a wedge of.

Not one car. Two. They inched their way closer, then stopped. Their engines went still. Do something, cried that silent voice, more urgent now, and he thought of the rifle that was mounted high above the front door, out of reach of the girls. But he couldn't move--couldn't move--other than to turn his head toward Heather. She continued to sleep, oblivious to what he heard, unaware of the thoughts that held him there against her warmth. As he watched the swirl of her long dark hair touched by a generous dusting of silver, he heard the stealthy click of car doors--one, then a second.

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