He didn’t like being talked to in that way, and he especially didn’t like it when his uncle swatted him on the back of the head one Saturday afternoon because the sting had hurt so much he had cried, but now that he had overheard his mother say to his father that Uncle Arnold was a dope, Ferguson didn’t really care anymore.
Source: 4 3 2 1 by Paul Auster »
Tagged in: life
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