A WRITER'S WIT |
New Yorker Fiction 2016
![Picture](/uploads/8/0/7/6/8076544/nyer0808-152016.jpg?180)
“It wasn’t really so extraordinary that she’d followed him all that way without recognizing him—she’d seen only his back, and the open, flapping coat had obscured his shape, a knitted hat had hidden his hair” (63).
Illustrated by David Doran.
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