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[Needs clarification of the narrative voice]

The noises of the house disturbed him this morning, the coffee smell invaded. His body lay tightly curled under the blankets, alert to all that went on. Eric was going today: a bus to Vancouver, another to Seattle, transfer to Portland then the milk-run down the coast. He traced the route out in his mind recalling his own thirty-six hour ordeal by Greyhound.

But that had been only for a visit. Eric is going for good. Mom says she can't handle us any more, not all of us. They asked me if I wanted to stay or go and Eric sort of wanted to go....

He rolled over and pulled the pillow over his eyes. The sun was merciless this morning but he curled up even tighter and tried to think of something else.

Eric will find lots of friends down there. He'll be alright. He's big for his age.

The door was opened with care but still it squeeked. "I'm going to the bus now," a voice said cautiously, searching the silence for animation. "I just thought I'd say good-bye."

"Just shut the door will you. I'm trying to sleep," a voice from under the blankets hurled back, becoming shrill. As the door clicked shut the body under the blankets clenched itself and tried not to breathe.





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