Abstract
Ten days after the war ended, my sister Laura drove a car off a bridge. The bridge was being repaired : she went right through the Danger sign. The car fell a hundred feet into the ravine, smashing through the treetops feathery with new leaves, then burst into flames and rolled down into the shallow creek at the bottom. Chunks of the bridge fell on top of it. Nothing was left of her but charred smithereens. I was informed of the accident by a policeman : the car was mine, and they'd traced th...
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