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Goodie promised to pick me up and there he was, waiting outside the small airport, khaki jumpsuit bleached in the sunlight, arms crossed, leaning against his truck, and that grin of his, cut hungry across his face. He looked like a clever little lizard. Hey, he said, look at you. A prop plane coughed through the sky behind him. Goodie pulled a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offered me one. No thanks. I told him I had quit.
June 19, 2014