“He turned him about in the light from the window. What are you wearing? he said. Harrogate shuffled and flapped his arms. Aw, he said. Just some old clothes. Did they rig you out in these at the workhouse? Yeah.… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“I close my eyes and he smells like him. His arms are his. Everything is normal, except I’m wearing clothes and he’s in a hospital robe, and we’re not in a hotel room. He is still him, wearing my heart… — Katy Evans Copy Share Image
