‘And take you this sword. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. “About two years ago. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. John did not see her until the last period. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged.
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