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These are the next 250 words from Whatever Will Be. The beginning can be found here . I’ve made some changes as suggested, but will not waste your time by reposting revised content.
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A go-cart race; something to look forward to, she thought, heading towards Barney’s for an ice-cream cone. Rosie took a grateful breath of the fishy summer air and closed her eyes. She loved life in this village and had been delighted when her father moved the family from North Bay to Raven Lake. Fishing and swimming were practically at her doorstep, and she’d fallen in love with the eerie and mournful cry of the loons. If only Jerri came to her senses instead of mooning over The Dog.
At the bottom of George Street, Rosie spotted the image of her sister’s delusion draped languidly across the hood of his blue Chevy like a hood ornament. The Dog, hatless but wearing sunglasses, saluted a fellow limping in his direction. Rosie slipped behind a worm-hollowed telephone pole. She held her breath and strained to eavesdrop.
“Well, speak of the devil. Cowboy! Where ya been? What’s going on, eh? The Dog folded his arms and rearranged his limbs on the hood as if posing for a centerfold.
“Hi, Dog, been to Toronto to visit my ma. She’s in hospital, but in good hands.” He swept off his cowboy hat and wiped his brow with the rolled up sleeve of his off-white shirt. Dark hair matted and damp, curled at his neckline. For a short, slight fellow, Cowboy knew how to carry himself large. Favouring his weaker leg, he two-stepped closer to The Dog but didn’t touch the car. The breeze off the lake, within spitting distance, blew an inconsequential breeze now and again, but wasn’t worth notice.
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