“Mama Mumu once told me there’s a difference between searching and escaping,” Marjorie answered. “I’m not running away anymore”
Marjorie scrambled up off the floor.
“Are you okay, Margie?” Sam Lefkowitz asked. His voice, roughened by years of chain smoking, was unusually mild.
Marjorie gave herself a shake and hastily grabbed a can of tuna. “Yeah, sure, all cool. Mr. Lefkowitz,” she added, speaking quickly and urgently, “can I take a few days off? Like two or three?”
A raised eyebrow. “You need a beach vacation already?”
“No. I want… I need to go to the mountains.”
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