Maybe you can, maybe you can't: you won't know till you try.
“At nights,” she says, “we were both in our own little worlds, him with his alcohol and me with my barbies.”
The hawser was as taut as a bowstring, and the current so strong she pulled upon her anchor. All around the hull, in the blackness, the rippling current bubbled and chattered like a little mountain stream.
“I might have saw something,” I told him. “At least I think I might have saw something. Only I couldn't say what.”
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