Only now it does not matter at all because Joan has come and has seen me. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. “You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. I'm not sure I'd go out with him anyway. He got off at Canal, and she exited behind the crowd. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. We aren't between him and heaven; he is between us and heaven. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious.
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