Got here half an hour ago and had a look, eyeballin’ it,” Sawyer said. “It’s murder, all right. Tell you something else – the sun went down, and it’s as dark as the inside of a horses’s ass out here.”
“You’re sure?”
“Well, I’ve never actually been inside a horses’s ass.

Time will come and riding horses will be seen by the whole society as a severe animal rights violation!

In the sea, Corr’s clumsiness will disappear, his weight cradled by the saltwater. I don’t want to say good-bye. I blink to clear my vision and reach up. I pull off his halter. The ocean is his love and now, finally, he’ll have it. I back out of the surf. There’s a thin, long wail. Corr takes a labored step away from the November sea. And another. He is slow, and the sea sings to us both, but he returns to me.

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