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THAT FEELING, YOU CAN ONLY SAY WHAT IT IS IN FRENCH A second honeymoon in the Florida Keys. What could be more relaxing? FLOYD, what's that over there? Oh shit. The mans voice speaking these words was vaguely familiar, but the words themselves were just a disconnected snip of dialogue, the kind of thing you heard when you were channel-surfing with the remote. There was no one named Floyd in her life. Still, that was the start. Even before she saw the little girl in the red pinafore, there were those disconnected words. But it was the little girl who brought it on strong. "Oh-oh, I'm getting that feeling," Carol said. The girl in the pinafore was in front of a country market called Carson's "Beer, Wine, Groc, Fresh Bait, Lottery" - crouched down with her butt between her ankles and the bright-red apron-dress tucked between her thighs, playing with a doll. The doll was yellow-haired
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