It feels like a turning point of some kind. After all, snow on the mountain is spring with a bullwhip! (That’s the only good line you’re getting out of me tonight, it’s just too late.) Also, I told the truth all neat and clean for once. Not only did I not get killed, but true life stuff came busting out all over—how is it we can be so blind and lucky at the same time? “You can do anything you want,” she said, leaning close to stretch out every word, “and I’ll support it…”
Okay, I can live with this. Apparently I always have.