YAAKOV WONDERED IF there had been signs. In the mornings, when he went to look for turtles, he’d watch the mist roll over the tops of the trees, cottoning the sky, and he’d go over the past months in his head. Was her decision the result of a sudden bad mood, or was it the culmination of weeks, months of her growing weary, sick of him and her life in their house?
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People-like Trees in the Night by Louis Rakovich