He called her on the telephone and told her he’d bought two thousand dollars’ worth of grass, centipede grass, something like ten pallets of grass, because he said that would bring her back. When she didn’t come he never unpacked it, never put it down, just kept those pallets in the yard and watered them all the damn time, as if they were pet fish or something, water always running out the driveway—he was nuts for that grass.
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