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He could have done it even if the two cars in question had been the same year, make, model, and color. If John Shooter had come to his door and said 'You stole my car' instead of 'You stole my story,' Mort would have scotched the idea quickly and decisively. He reflected that he must have bought this particular pack in 1985, according to the informal science of stratification one might call-for want of a better word-Deskology. The pack was old, crumpled, but definitely not flat. Did they make L & M's anymore? He didn't know. or go rummaging through his glove compartment for a stray or two as he was now rummaging through his desk.Īt that moment Mort lifted up a Xerox of The Organ-Grinder's Boy manuscript, and there, beneath it, was a package of L & M cigarettes. He'd never felt the need to turn in to the next convenience store on his way for a deck of smokes. But the key word there, of course, was 'momentary.' Those feelings passed in a hurry, like fierce rainsqualls-five minutes after a blinding silver curtain of rain has dropped out of the sky, the sun is shining again. This wasn't the first time he'd felt that way in the last four years there had been times when just seeing someone puffing away behind the wheel of a car next to his at a stoplight could set off a raging momentary lust for tobacco. The most obvious thing, of course, was that it had made him feel like he needed a cigarette. His last thought before drifting off was a repeat: He's not done with me yet.
![Common zippyshare Common zippyshare](https://torrentfreak.com/images/digitalcop.png)
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As to how it had made him feel, finding that the similarity actually existed. The man was one of the Crazy Folks, of course that was now proven in brass if any further proof had been needed. And when the knives, glittering in the hot sun of this huge secret garden Mort turned to run, but a hand-Amy's, he was sure-seized him by the belt and pulled him back.
![Common zippyshare](https://kumkoniak.com/100.jpg)