" Later, when Marie was so sick and they both knew that their sunsets together were numbered, he would bundle her up in a coat and a blanket, a knit cap for her bare head, make her a cup of hot tea because she was always cold, and they would sit and watch the sunset, knowing it was their own as well. Now he sits and watches alone, although he still pours a glass of red wine for her, which he tosses over the deck into the bushes when he’s ready to go inside. It’s "
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