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Post #500 wins free game


Rev

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he seemed to say, ‘just because I’m stronger and more of a

man than you are.’ We were in the same Senior Society, and

while we were never intimate I always had the impression

that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with

some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own.

We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.

‘I’ve got a nice place here,’ he said, his eyes flashing about

restlessly.

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Turning me around by one arm he moved a broad flat

hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken

Italian garden, a half acre of deep pungent roses and a snubnosed

motor boat that bumped the tide off shore.

‘It belonged to Demaine the oil man.’ He turned me

around again, politely and abruptly. ‘We’ll go inside.’

We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosycolored

space, fragilely bound into the house by French

windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming

white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a

little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room,

blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags,

twisting them up toward the frosted wedding cake of the

ceiling—and then rippled over the wine-colored rug, making

a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.

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The only completely stationary object in the room was an

enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed

up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both

in white and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if

they had just been blown back in after a short flight around

the house. I must have stood for a few moments listening to

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the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture

on the wall. Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan

shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about

the room and the curtains and the rugs and the two young

women ballooned slowly to the floor.

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The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was

extended full length at her end of the divan, completely

motionless and with her chin raised a little as if she were

balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If

she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of

it—indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology

for having disturbed her by coming in.

The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise—she

leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—

then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I

laughed too and came forward into the room.

‘I’m p-paralyzed with happiness.’

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“You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need in my life. Buy the sofa, then for a couple years you're satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you've got your sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the perfect bed. The drapes. The rug. Then you're trapped in your lovely nest, and the things you used to own, now they own you.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

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And of course some rules in the first post (in case you haven't read)

 

You MUST read all this thread, because if you're the post #500 then Rev will ask you a question about a random post in this thread ;)

 

And if you cannot answer the question, the prize will come automatically to following post able to answer the question :D

 

:P

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And of course some rules in the first post (in case you haven't read)

 

You MUST read all this thread, because if you're the post #500 then Rev will ask you a question about a random post in this thread ;)

 

And if you cannot answer the question, the prize will come automatically to following post able to answer the question :D

 

:P

 

Nice try...

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