Are You Pressure-sensitive?

In the morning recently, at seven twenty-five, I put my suitcase into a rental car outside the motel and started driving toward the airport on a business trip to another city. The girl at the checkout counter said it would take thirty-five to forty-five minutes to make the airport. The flight would leave at quarter past eight.

It was raining heavily, but I made good time for a while. Traffic was moving freely on the expressway. It gradually slowed up, however, and finally got to a slow crawl; then a dead stop.

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Our Pleasant Place
March 31, 1973
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