Well, she told me I had an aura. "What?" I said.
"An aura," she said. "I heered you," I said, "but
you ain't significating." "What I mean, you got
this fuzzy light like, all around your head,
same as Nell the epelectric when she's nigh read-
y to have a fit, only you ain't having no fit."
"Why, that's a fact," I said, "and I ain't about
to neither. I reckon it's more like that dead
rotten fir stump by the edge of the swamp on misty
nights long about cucumber-blossoming time
when the foxfire's flickering round." "I be goddamn
if that's it," she said. "Why, you ain't but sixty-
nine, you ain't a-rotting yet. What I say
is you got a goddamn naura." "Ok," I said. "Ok."
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