He savored the last solo, the coda. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. “I’ve gotta go. " But Spurlock put up his guard. “Uh, I think I might, Shari. “They’re all doing great. There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals. The fates are never so kind to me.
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